The Ray Kowalski File
by MaireadSystem
Summary: The last couple years of my life have been weird. Not like Lucky Charms added a new marshmallow weird. More like Lucky Charms actually causes people to fantasize about Siamese cats doing the cancan weird. (Has nothing to do with Lucky Charms or Siamese cats. Sorry for the disappointment.) T rating to be safe. This is RayK's story with eventual Fraser POV.
1. This Is Weird

_OK, this is dredging up an old classic... If you're reading this, I'm guessing that_ Due South _needs no introduction for you, but I should say that I'm writing this because it deserves more fic than what already exists, and because people in this system tell their stories on here. It's what we do, apparently. So, if you haven't read a MaireadSystem story before, you should read the profile first for some context.  
_

 _Spoiler warning: You need to have seen all of the series to get all of what is going on. If you haven't, a lot will be spoiled for you._

 _As is sometimes the case, my memories don't entirely match up with the cannon presentation of what happened, so I'll outline the important differences for you._

 _ **Background**_ _: RayV did not run off with Stella and Francesca did not have a bunch of kids. Instead, RayV returned to his previous position to the tune of a raise and the privilege of choosing his cases and being in charge of his team. His team officially consists of RayK and Franny, and unofficially includes Fraser, who returned to Chicago with RayK after a long, rollicking adventure in the Yukon, during which RayV made his peace with the fact that Franny was part of the police force, though he is decidedly against her becoming a full-fledged officer or detective._

* * *

 _Chapter 1: This Is Weird.  
_

I figure this will be simpler if I get my general complaint out of the way at the start: My life is an unfair maze with no directions and no clear goal in sight. "Go to Chicago," they said. "It'll be a nice change of scene," they said. And I did, and it was, but only after I freaked out and had the first of a series of identity crisises. That doesn't look right. I asked Fraser, and he said it's "crises." Whatever.

Anyway. Working with a Mountie was a little weird, but I think I handled that part in stride, other than the tasting things off the floor part. Even pretending to be this guy Vecchio wasn't too hard. I already wanted my friends to call me Ray, and at the station everyone did. That was nice. No one dared tease me about my name being "Stanley Kowalski" (thanks, Dad) because they could get in trouble for blowing my cover. That was great. And though I'm not Italian, if I tell people I am, it's amazing how most of them will go, "Oh yeah, I see it now." People have even told me they see a family resemblance between me and Francesca. Morons.

Well, right when I think we're solid, me and Franny are almost like real family, me and Fraser are knocking out cases, boom-boom, and what happens? Vecchio comes back—the real one. And I'm having yet another identity crisis. I mentioned this isn't fair, right?

We go to Canada, sh*t hits the fan, I figure, Vecchio was working with him first, so he'll want to go back to being his partner full time, right? If I try to work with the two of them, I'll be like a third wheel. Duets are duets, and in the cop shop, trios are just lame. Huey's got Dewey, and I've got... another change of scene?

But then I'm surprised when Fraser says no, let's go on that adventure you wanted, and I'm like "To find the hand of that dead guy?" And he says, "John Franklin? Yes." And next thing I know, we're heading off all bundled up on this dog sled, and half of me is like "I'm doing it!" and the other half is like, _"What_ the hell am I doing?!"

Did we find it? Well, we went to Beechey Island, and King William Island, and we saw some cool stuff, and Fraser told me a lot more about the Franklin guy, how he was an admiral and a politician, and how he probably didn't live to see what became of his men, and how no one knew exactly where his grave was, and how his men probably ended up eating each other—like, gee Fraser, you couldn't have mentioned this _before_ we started this crazy trip? But we didn't find the grave either... it had been almost a hundred and fifty years since he died... there wasn't any evidence lying around for Fraser to lick, and even Diefenbaker couldn't smell out the grave of some antique navy admiral. But you know, I'm not all that disappointed. It would have been incredible to find it, but (and I know this sounds really cliché) it really was more about the journey.

Finally, I decide to get Fraser to go back to civilization, and the RCMP bunch want him back in active duty someplace, though only the new recruits are interested in working with him, and I'm like, "You can come back to Chicago with me." But in the back of my mind, I'm thinking about Vecchio. I'm thinking about how my best friend has an older, closer friend that is _his_ best friend, and it's not me. Although, sleeping in close quarters to keep warm for a month straight will do wonders for cementing a relationship. Just saying. I'm a bit insecure. Possibly my worst character flaw.

Fraser weighs his options, and in the end he does come back, and Welsh is like "Where the hell have you been?" To both of us, not just me. It was nice to have an ally while getting chewed out. He tells me—Welsh, that is—that I'm with Vecchio now, and I'm thinking, _Okay, third wheel it is._ I'm not sure how long I'll last, not least of all because Vecchio's always talking down to me, and he acts like it's all my fault his Riviera went down in flames. Again. This was his third one. Or maybe he even thinks I did it on purpose.

[Fraser says I'm shifting tenses. I'm like, what do you mean? He says I started in present tense and then went to past tense and then back to present, and I seem to prefer telling past events in the present tense. "It's sloppy writing." So I tell him, "This is how I talk, so this is how I write." and he says something like "All right" and does that blink-half-shake-of-the-head like he's a martyr to put up with me.]

The one good thing about the car situation is that he's found number four. Yup, his fourth Buick Riviera. A 1971, which I believe was the year of his first one. I know he's said, but I sometimes tune him out. The guy talks about his cars more than most guys talk about past girl friends. And seems to love them just as much. Bottom line, no way in hell is he going to let me drive it for any reason other than his having to go undercover again. Which is stupid, because Fraser confided to me that he thought I was the safer driver of the two of us.

I guess it was about the second day back at work that I realized something. It took me so long because I was kind of worked up about how our little team was going to operate. Was Fraser still my partner? Was I Vecchio's partner and Fraser was our... liaison? Or were Fraser and Vecchio partners and I was their stooge? We went out for drinks the first night, and that went OK, I guess. I like beer and vodka, sometimes scotch, Vecchio of course likes wine, and that night Fraser had sarsaparilla like a guy in an old western movie. Vecchio and I didn't exactly make great strides toward bonding, but we were on our good behavior for the Mountie. So, day two didn't seem quite as weird, and then Francesca came into things.

We needed a file on some repeat offender, and I said, "Hey, Franny, can you get me the Marlin Ames file?" and she said something like, "Comin' right up." and Vecchio just kind of froze.

I get that he was away a long time, like most of two years, and he didn't get to see Francesca become our Civilian Aide, learn to use the computer and all that crap. He had a chance to see her work a little bit, but not much because he was on recovery leave for part of the time Fraser and I were exploring. So he had just started to grasp the idea that she could spend a day at the station doing more good than harm, and then he saw us talking like old buddies.

We weren't old buddies... Francesca drove me up the wall in so many ways on so many occasions. I guess it was like having a real little sister. But we had learned to work together, to put up with each other, and Vecchio could see that. He could see that even though we bickered, we actually got along fairly well. I think he was jealous. He was jealous of the time he missed with his sister because she grew up a lot while he was gone. And maybe I shouldn't say this, but I personally think she grew up a little _because_ he was gone. He wasn't there telling her what she couldn't do. If I tell her she can't do something, she's like "Suck an egg!" But if Vecchio tells her the same, no matter what she says, some little part of her believes him. He's her big brother. He must be right.

So, what I realized as she leaned over to pull out a file drawer was that now that Vecchio was back, I didn't have to pretend she was my sister anymore. Of course, now that Vecchio was back, I still had to pretend to _him_ that she was like a sister to me. So it was a really quick thing, like "Hey, I can ask her out now!" followed by, "Damn, now I can never ask her out!" It was nice for two seconds and then it sucked. I looked away from her.

"Here you go," she said when she brought the file over.

I took it without looking up. "Thanks."

"What's eating you?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said too quickly. I opened the file and stubbornly kept my eyes down, willing her to go away.

"Fine. Whatever," she said at last, turning and heading off.

Then I could feel Vecchio staring at me. I told myself he wasn't really, and when that didn't work I told myself that even if he was, all the more reason not to lose my cool. I started reading stuff from the case file just to keep him from saying anything.

To my relief, Fraser stopped me to point something out about the guy, asking those teasing questions that are meant to allow me to get on the same page with him without his spelling everything out for me... usually they just make me feel stupid, but I was grateful for them today. Even though Vecchio got where he was going a little quicker, that still meant his attention was off me for a while.

At the end of the day, Vecchio said to Fraser, "You wanna come over for dinner? Ma can't get enough of you, and since you came back, she's been telling me to get you over there. Both of you," he added, looking up at me like he just remembered.

I was relieved because I'd just started down the path of "Now that they have their real son and brother back, I'm out of the picture" in my mind. "If that's okay," I said, making myself be polite.

"Sure, sure," he said, clearly trying to smooth over the fact that he almost left me out.

"Thank you kindly, Diefenbaker and I would be glad to come," Fraser said, smiling.

Vecchio faltered for a split second and then he shrugged. "Why not. Bring the wolf."

"You're coming over?" Franny almost squealed, sashaying over.

"It would seem so," said Fraser.

"Great! I'll get going so I can help ma get things ready."

"You said you had a date tonight," Vecchio accused her.

"I always say that," she said with a little wave of her hand. "Anyway, it's just some guy. I'll blow him off."

I felt bad for whoever the "some guy" was, glad that I'd be having dinner with Franny, and nervous that I'd be having dinner with Franny in front of her brother. Oh, yeah. This was weird.

* * *

 _I'm going to leave it there because of length and need to do something else for a while, but I should be back, especially if people show interest. Just remember you need to read my profile, because eventually this story is supposed to show my journey into your world from my world which is fictional in your world. Just to be confusing. Which it will, if you don't read the profile. Got it? Good._

 _~S. "Ray" Kowalski_


	2. Family

_Yeah, I'm back. Got to write while the... ink is fresh. I wanted to say "while the iron's hot" but Fraser said that's mixing a metaphor. Know-it-all._

 _Five people have looked at my story. Three in the USA, one in France and one in the Philippines. Weird, I'd have expected there to be a Canadian reader. *shrug*_

* * *

Chapter 2: Family

I walked out to my car. Right before I got to it, I realized Fraser wasn't right behind me. I looked back. Fraser had stopped a few yards away and I saw him looking uneasily at me before glancing away. I followed his look and saw Vecchio standing by his car, looking back at Fraser.

Last night we had all gone for drinks in the Riviera and then Vecchio had dropped Fraser off at the consulate on his way back to the station where I had left my car. The Vecchio house was a little further away, so it made sense to take my own car so no one would have to drive me back. Fraser didn't know who to ride with.

Diefenbaker had no such dilemma. With a little grumbly growl at Fraser, he trotted over to me and stood up with his front paws against my passenger door. It may be a little petty, but it made me feel good that Dief preferred to ride with me.

The feeling passed quickly, though. I felt like I owed Vecchio. Without him, there was no duet in the first place. I'd had Fraser to myself for a long time, and Vecchio hadn't had much time to catch up with him.

"We'll see you there," I called to Fraser with what I hoped was confident nod.

Fraser nodded back. Just like that, his hesitation was gone and he headed for the Riv.

I put Dief in the backseat and got into the front. In the rearview mirror I saw Dief put his head on the back of my seat by my shoulder. "I know," I told him. "I feel like my alpha's gone, too. But I think he operates more like a salmon sometimes, you know? He's got to go back to what he knew first. Oh my god, I'm starting to equate people to animals of the Yukon. See, this is why a little time away from Fraser is good for both of us."

Dief grunted, as if to point out that I was still attempting to have an intelligent conversation with a deaf wolf.

"True."

I pulled up in front of the Vecchio house a little later. I had been there many times during my undercover days in order to keep up the facade of being part of that family, though I did have my own apartment. A lot of the house and its contents had had to be repaired or replaced after the fire, and I was sure glad I wasn't there when the other Ray saw that his pool table was singed. I'm sure he would have blamed me. By now, he's gotten used to the changes and understands that things probably would have happened just the same, even if it had been him there instead of me. Though he would have taken that shortcut and possibly gotten there about ten seconds sooner...

Thinking about the fire reminded me that in helping Franny get to the ground after Fraser all but thew her out of an upstairs window, I had inadvertently touched her butt—and she had complained loudly. It wasn't on purpose... I was just trying to keep her from falling. I grimaced at the memory. It was early in my acquaintance with Fraser, too. I had been trying to be totally cool and confident, and not doing the best job.

Dief nudged my shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry," I said. I unfastened my seatbelt and got out of the car. I cracked my neck before I let the dog... wolf... thing... out.

Dief sprang eagerly toward the house, where he knew a lot of simpering Italians would be happy to give him treats.

The Riv was already in the yard, and as I walked after Dief, I realized Vecchio and Fraser were still in it. They seemed to be talking, and Fraser's head was turned toward me, but I couldn't tell if he was actually looking at me, and I only looked for a second before going inside.

"This is so dumb," I grumbled to myself. _It sucks._

Then I was dragged inside by the kids who still called me "Uncle Ray," and surrounded by them, Franny's mom and her sister, Maria. Only Franny and her brother-in-law, Tony, were almost indifferent to my arrival.

"Where's Fraser... and Ray?" Franny asked me.

"Outside."

"Well, tell 'em to get their butts in here."

Great... I was thinking about her butt again. "You tell 'em," I retorted.

Her mom grinned at me. "You two still act like brother and sister," she said, like it made her day.

I laughed awkwardly. "Yeah..." Then I muttered, "tell me about it."

Soon, Fraser and Vecchio came in and I was in a sea of loud Italian voices. Months of conditioning had accustomed me to the harsh, rapid-fire conversation, but I still didn't like it. If someone's got to be yelling, I want it to be me, at a suspect.

Franny planted herself by Fraser at the dinner table, and I got stuck on the end by one of the kids. Mrs. Vecchio sat on my other side once we were ready to eat though, and she was always super nice to me. Acted like I really was her own son, even when there was no chance that anyone was spying on us. Even now, she still does that. It made me feel like I should offer to stay and help with the dishes after. Which I hate.

I put off doing the dishes as long as I can. No clean spoons? No problem. I'll just stir my coffee with the handle of one I used the day before. Problem solved. So, when I say that Ma Vecchio made me feel like I should be doing chores, you know I thought of her like my mom as much as she thought of me as a son.

My problem was that I wanted a shot at being her son-in-law. I had no idea where to start. Even if I somehow got a date with Franny, we might realize we have nothing in common, and that would be that. But I just wanted the chance to see.

My attention suddenly jumped to conversation further down the table when I heard Franny tell her sister, "And Saturday I have a dinner-movie date with that Glenn guy I told you about."

"I thought you said you didn't like his mustache," Maria said with a surprised look.

"Eh, it grew on me. Or rather, it growing on him grew on me!" Franny laughed loudly and Maria chuckled along with her.

Fraser smiled. Vecchio grimaced. I chewed mechanically, looking back at my plate as I listened.

"I forget the name of the movie that's playing," Franny went on. "It's supposed to be this romantic suspense thingy."

"Can't get enough of those romantic suspense thingies," Vecchio put in. "Such an underrated genre."

I couldn't help smiling a little at that. Franny paid him no attention, continuing to describe what she had heard about the movie.

"We should go bowling Saturday," Vecchio said.

I stole a glance down the table and saw that he was definitely talking just to Fraser. I like bowling. I don't like the idea of my best friend going with his best friend and not being invited. It sucks.

"Hey, that sounds like fun," Franny said enthusiastically. "I need to practice my strike."

"A strike isn't something you practice," Vecchio snapped. "Your throw, your aim, your walk-up—those are things you practice. A strike is what you aim for. And you are _not_ coming. You just said you have a date."

"Maybe the movie won't go very late and I can meet you guys after."

"No."

"We'll see."

"No."

I wanted to tell Vecchio to let her go, but I knew she just wanted to because Fraser was going. And he wouldn't listen to me, anyway. Then Fraser put his two cents in.

"If we're still out when she concludes her date, I don't see why..."

"Benny, come 'ere for a sec." Vecchio pushed his chair back and Fraser followed him through the door to the living room.

I looked around. Franny pouted for a moment before tossing her head back and turning to talk to Maria again.

"So, how was the wild North?" Mrs. Vecchio asked me.

I whipped my head around and stared at her a moment before my brain caught up. She was asking about my trek in Canada with Fraser. "Uh... wild," I said, forcing a smile. "Cold. Very cold. It's no wonder the ship of that guy we were looking for got stuck in the ice. You know, Fraser says they sent dozens of search parties after Franklin, and a lot of them never came back either. Like, more men died trying to find his exploration party than were in his party in the first place."

"Oh, my! How exciting."

"I guess. Kind of quiet now that they're dead, though."

"And did you find him?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vecchio and Fraser coming back into the room, and I glanced back at them. "Uh... no. Still no one knows where his grave is, and we probably never will."

"A mystery!"

"Y-yeah."

"So," I heard Franny start.

"No," said her brother.

"Fraser—"

Fraser cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. "I think perhaps it's best you listen to your brother, Francesca," he said. "Besides, you wouldn't want to cut your date short, or be distracted by thinking of meeting up with us afterward."

Franny stared at him with her mouth open for a few seconds. Then she shut her mouth. Then she looked down. Then she took a bite of her dinner.

Vecchio engaged Fraser in work-related conversation.

"Now that you're back, you'll stay a while, yeah?" the matriarch asked me. "No more crazy adventures?"

"Nah... not for now," I said. She was making an effort to entertain me, and I felt like a selfish ingrate. I lifted my glass and held it toward her. "Here's for some good old-fashioned crimes to work on. The peaceful, safe crimes. Not the ones that have us taking bullets for each other and running off to other countries."

She smiled and clinked her glass against mine. _"Cin cin_. _"_

"Cheers."

"Hey, what are we toasting?" asked Tony.

"We want in," Maria added.

Her mother renewed her smile and held out her glass to them. "Safe work and good health for our boys."

"Aw, ma," Vecchio complained. "At least call us policemen." But he reached out his glass, too, and everyone joined in, even the kids.

When we set our glasses down again, she put her hand on my wrist and gave it a squeeze. "We're so happy to have you back."

I kept from looking at Vecchio, but I could feel his eyes on me again. He was weirded out that I was so integrated into his family. "Thanks," I said, giving her a little smile and then dropping my gaze. To be honest, it still weirded me out, too. My parents loved me and everything, but they weren't so open about showing it. This lady who had known me less than two years loved me like a son. I didn't deserve it.

I was helping clear the table after dinner when I remembered something. I took a stack of plates to Mrs. Vecchio at the kitchen sink. "Hey, um... I read in Ray's file that he has a brother. I kept meaning to ask about him, but I never got around to it."

"Oh, Paulie!" she exclaimed, smiling her broadest smile. "Of course, didn't I tell you about him? He designs clothes. Well, now he has people to design clothes _for_ him... has his own company in New York. Very successful, but very busy. He hasn't gotten away for a visit in years."

I frowned, confused. "But... Ray was shot. He didn't come then?"

She sobered a bit. "Well... we told him it was serious, and he said he couldn't leave right away. So he would wait and see."

"Wait and see...? What, if he died?"

She crossed herself. "Oh, _dio,_ yes, he would have come then, for sure! Fortunately, he recovered. Paulie was still too busy to visit a recovering brother."

I huffed. I didn't mean to intrude on personal family stuff, but that sounded like a load of crap to me. "You'd think he would have at least been happy to be able to talk to him again after he was done with his undercover work."

"Well..." she shrugged. "Paulie lives so far away and hardly talks to Ray anyway, so... we didn't tell him about that."

My eyes widened. "You didn't... you didn't tell him Ray was undercover?"

"It seemed safer that fewer people knew."

"I guess, but... what if he'd tried to call him or something?"

"Eh... He calls me on Mother's Day. If he asked to speak to Ray, we would say he wasn't there. I could take a message if he wanted to leave one and call him back saying Ray told me what to say." She shrugged again. "Very simple."

"Wow."

She handed me a clean plate and a towel and I started drying.

"He's a good boy, Paulie. But very busy."

"Wow," I repeated.

"It's good you're here," she said, not looking at me. "Good to have Ray back, but good you're here, too."

"It's good to be back. Do you... is it okay if I still call you 'ma'?" I asked, hoping it wasn't too awkward.

" _Madre di dio,_ what else would you call me?" she asked in a scolding tone.

I cracked up. "OK, just checking."

* * *

 _Hope you enjoyed a glimpse into the Vecchio household. Drop me a line if you got the time. ~Ray K.  
_


	3. Bonding

_I keep remembering more stuff, so I'm writing it as it comes. I'll wait a while to post it though, so new people have a chance to get on the wagon before the story's too long._

 _I've got nine readers now, two in France! I'd like to hear from you guys. If you type your review in French, Fraser can translate it for me._

* * *

Chapter 3: Bonding

Maria started to get the kids ready for bed, and I decided to make myself scarce before anyone asked me for a bedtime story. I got stuck reading _Goodnight Moon_ several times in a row once. I hate that book.

I said goodnight to Ma Vecchio and Franny and went out on the porch. I wondered if Vecchio was planning to drive Fraser back to the consulate. Probably.

I sat at the front of the porch with my feet on the steps. It was a mild night and I could see a few stars. I thought about how it had felt when I first saw the view of the night sky in Canada. I had always heard that there were millions and millions of stars, way too many to count, but I had no concept of it until then. The few I could see from the Vecchio porch seemed pretty pathetic in comparison. I missed the huge, shimmering light show.

After a couple of minutes, the door opened and Vecchio came out alone. I was surprised, but I didn't ask where Fraser was.

"Thought you left," he said.

"Yeah... I'm going," I said, but I didn't get up. I was full and didn't want to move at the moment. I guess I was a little lonely, too.

He hung around like he wanted something, or maybe just wanted me to leave. Finally, he said, "If I tell you something, can you keep your mouth shut?"

I looked up at him. "Yeah..." I said. Then, "Wait, to who?"

"Everybody. It's not about a case. Not directly."

"Okay..."

He came to sit down at the other side of the steps. He rubbed his hands together, looked up at the sky, then put his head down and sighed. "I quit smoking a long time ago," he told me.

It wasn't what I expected, though I didn't know what I _had_ expected.

"I never wanted to go back to it, but Armando Langoustini, he smoked. If I didn't smoke, his goons would pick up on it right away. One of the first things I did as Langoustini was tell his goons I thought I should cut back, but that only helped a little. People who wanted to get on my good side kept bringing me my 'favorite cigars.' Offering me a cigarette when they lit up. If the atmosphere was right, I had to take it. Stuff like that."

I nodded. "You had to be convincing."

"Yeah. But, uh... Ma and them don't know. It would break Ma's heart—she wouldn't understand. And she was the one who really pushed me to quit in the first place. She was so proud of me when I made it through a month of not smoking, and then a year. And I never lied to her about it once. But now..."

"I get it," I said. "You're going to quit again, right? So, why worry her in the meantime?"

"Exactly," he said, sounding relieved. He got out a pack of cigarettes. "So, you mind?"

I shook my head. "I had a friend in high school... hooked when he was fifteen."

"Eh, they're terrible." He lit a cigarette. "I get this brand because it's supposed to be kind of sweet and less tar-y and not smell as bad. So far, no one's said anything, but I don't think I can quit fast enough before one of them notices. I gotta move out."

"You can't just smoke when you're away from home?"

"Mm-mm. Can't go that long yet. Besides, I haven't told Fraser, either."

That flat-out shocked me. I never thought he'd confide something to me before telling Fraser. "Why not?"

"Eh, I'm afraid he'd start lecturing me or outlining a five-step program, or reciting all the nasty stuff these things do to you. Or worse—I'm afraid he'd give me that _look._ You know the one."

"That 'How could you do this, I thought you were my friend' look?" I ventured.

He sighed deeply. "That's the one. What did you do?"

"Huh?"

"If you know the look, you must o' done something."

I winced and looked at my shoes. "I... I hit him."

For the third time that day, I felt his stare on me. "You _what?"_

I felt myself getting hot under the collar. "To be fair... I warned him I was going to. Like five times. Seriously, five freakin' times."

The awkward silence lasted a few seconds. Then he said, "He doesn't hear so good sometimes."

"Like his wolf," I muttered.

Another silence; then, to my surprise, I heard him laugh. "Him and that wolf," he said.

I smiled. For a moment, I'd been afraid we were about to have a fight because I'd hit his best friend. It seemed I was wrong. "So, when did you see the look? When you shot him?"

"Did your homework, huh?" he said after a beat.

"Well, I was supposed to be you. I memorized where you were born, the names of your family members, stuff about your old cases... Pretty much your whole file and then some."

He did a slow nod. Bob, bob, bob. "Well, good. Good job."

Before I could react to that, he went on.

"Yeah, he gave me a version of the look then. Not because I shot him, but because I stopped him. Stopped him from leaving with a chick who was going to ruin his life. He didn't blame me in the end, but I couldn't shake it for a long, long time. Felt really guilty."

"Same," I said. "I mean, I let him punch me, but of course he didn't want to."

"Nah, that's not his style. He'd rather leave you suffering in your guilt than let you get back on even ground. Oh, I don't think it's intentional. I think he genuinely believes that getting even isn't important and that forgiveness is divine and all that crap. He just doesn't get it."

I shrugged. "What are you gonna do? You can't explain the American bro code to a Mountie."

He snickered. "Nope."

"Hey, uh... I was wondering about your brother, Paul. Your mom said he runs a fashion business in New York?"

"Yeah. He does all right. He's not rich, but he's living his dream."

"Are you on good terms?"

"Sure, I guess."

"But you haven't spoken to him in years."

He breathed out a stream of smoke. "It's not that I'm not speaking to him. I've just had nothing to tell him. And I guess he's had nothing to tell me." He said it lightly enough that I thought it might be true.

"Maybe it's because I'm an only child, but that seems weird to me."

"Eh... I got two sisters here, and I doubt having Paulie around would make my life with them any easier. We're okay together, but we're okay apart, too."

I thought that over a little. "What about Fraser?"

"What _about_ Fraser?"

"Were you okay apart? When you were undercover?"

He put out his cigarette, waited until it was cool, sealed it in a plastic bag and put it in his pocket. "I missed him," he said finally. "Missed my family. Being away from Paulie was nothing new, but everyone else... yeah. I was okay, but nothing was the same. And there were a few times I didn't know how to keep going. Living the life of a rich low-life playboy was almost fun, but not seeing a familiar face was hard.

"When Fraser was in Canada without me, I missed him every day. I kept waiting for him to walk into the precinct, ready to go. And then I had to leave before he got back, and it wasn't safe to explain things over the phone. That sucked. But then when I was in Vegas, since everything was different, that helped me miss people a little less. I guess I missed everyone as part of a package deal with my normal routine, you know? I really felt like I lost myself for a while."

He got out a pack of chewing gum and put a stick in his mouth before offering it to me. I took one and started chewing.

"Was it weird coming back to Chicago?" I asked.

"Hell, yeah. So weird. It was like going someplace I'd only seen in dreams. Freaked out when I saw Fraser again. It's like when you've met two people but you didn't think they knew each other, and then you see them together. That feeling times ten."

"You kept your cool pretty well."

"Not without effort, kid."

We were getting along so well, I couldn't resent his calling me "kid."

"You did well not to give the game away, once Fraser recovered."

"Thanks. It was pretty weird. I wasn't a hundred percent sure you were the real Ray Vecchio because I'd only seen pictures of you and you didn't have a mustache... I was just going by Fraser's body language. He was acting like a deer in the headlights, but I could tell that was just for the thugs. He actually seemed happy to be walking to another room to get shot, so I knew it would be okay."

"Heh heh. I'll be tellin' that story the rest of my life."

"Me, too."

"Hey, um..." He scooted a little closer to me. "While we're talking about this stuff, now's a good time to mention that there are still some mob people interested in whacking me. Not all of them know the real Langoustini is dead, and even if they do, some of them might think it's worth-while to take me out in case I remember something about them later. Which is possible, I might add. I couldn't take detailed notes, so I had to rely on my memory a lot, and a year/year and a half is a lot of information."

I hadn't thought about the possibility that his life could still be in danger. "Have there been any threats or anything?"

"Nah, nothing like that. But something tells me if someone is gunning for me, I won't know 'til it hits me."

"And they won't put you in a safe house or anything if there's no evidence of a threat."

"I wouldn't wanna be, but no. So... keep your eyes open, okay? I don't wanna be paranoid, but I also don't wanna be dead."

"Yeah."

"And don't tell Fraser."

"Why not?"

"Because one, he'd worry, and two, he's got great instincts—chances are, he'll be the first to notice anyone after me, whether I tell him or not."

I couldn't argue with that.

The door opened and Maria's voice said, "Hey, Ray... Oh! Ray, you're still here."

We both knew she had started out speaking to her brother and ended speaking to me.

"Yeah... I was about to get going," I said, standing. My back hurt from sitting there so long without support.

"Oh, well little Tony really, really wanted you to read him a bedtime story. I was going to get Ray to do it..." she nodded at Vecchio, "...but he really wanted you."

I closed my eyes. "Is it _Goodnight Moon?"_

"No; _Hop On Pop_."

"Okay... but only one time. That's it."

"Thank you!"

"Don't thank me."

Maria grabbed me as I entered the doorway and kissed my cheek. "Thank you!" she said again, grinning.

I rolled my eyes.

I went up to little Tony's room and went to sit on the edge of his bed. He was about seven, dark-haired, bright-eyed and adorable. "Hey, you."

"You didn't leave!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, not yet, but we gotta make this quick, okay?" I said seriously. "Just one story."

"Okay," he agreed.

I started reading the Dr. Seuss book kind of fast, but then I slowed down and let him look at each of the pictures. I should have been home by then, but I really loved these kids. We got giggling over the "Stop! You must not hop on Pop!" part.

When I finished the book, Tony sat up and gave me a hug. "Thanks, Uncle Ray," he said.

"You're welcome, kiddo." I patted his back.

I saw a form in the doorway and glanced up to see Vecchio peeking in. He looked kind of wistful, and I realized it must have been a bummer for him to miss over a year of his Nieces' and nephews' lives. He smirked at me like, _He's a doll when he's sleepy, you know?_ And I smiled back like, _I know, right?_

"Good night," I said, pulling Tony's covers up to his chin.

"Will you say prayers with me?" he asked.

I wasn't really religious and didn't feel comfortable pretending for him. "Why don't you let your real uncle do that," I suggested, looking back at Vecchio.

"Okay."

He came into the room and took my place on the edge of the bed. "Hey, Kowalski?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you go ahead and call me Ray? I mean, everyone else has to use our last names to distinguish us, but I don't call myself by my first name too often, so you'll know I'm talking to you, and vice versa, right?"

"Yeah, that makes sense." I slipped out quietly and went to find Fraser.

I hadn't made any headway with Franny, but I felt better about my double than I had since I met him.

* * *

 _It ain't over. There's more. Lots more. Stay tuned and don't forget to comment or even ask questions if you want. ~Ray K.  
_


	4. Blind Spot

_A couple of people made it all the way to chapter three, so here's chapter four. I realized this is going to be a longer story than I originally thought. I keep remembering more stuff.  
_

* * *

Chapter Four: Blind Spot

I found Fraser still at the dinner table (or there again), drinking tea and talking to Francesca. "You ready to go?" I asked him. "Ray's saying prayers with little Tony, but I can drive you."

He smiled. "Thank you, Ray. I'll just finish my tea and we can be on our way."

"I made it for him," Franny said proudly.

I tilted my head. "They make hot tea mix in powder form now?"

She snatched the discarded tea bag from Fraser's saucer and threw it at me. "No, _that's_ where it comes from, moron," she exclaimed.

I tried to block it, but the soggy bag hit me in the shoulder. I caught it when it fell toward the floor. "All right, all right, I was just teasing you." _I suck at this. Everything I say just makes her more irritated with me,_ I thought. I set the bag back on Fraser's saucer and sat beside him.

"We thought you had left already," Fraser said.

"Yeah, I was just sitting outside for a while, and then Maria caught me. I had to go read a bedtime story."

"Did you tell about Lou Scagnetti?" Fraser asked with a wag of his eyebrows.

I laughed. "No, but I should have."

"Who's Lou Scagnelli?" asked Franny.

"Scagnetti," Fraser started, but I cut him off.

"Private joke. You had to o' been there."

She scowled at me. I felt bad, but I always have a hard time taking back anything I say. She got this distant look in her eyes when she stopped scowling, and I wondered what she was thinking about.

Fraser set his cup down. "Well, thank you kindly for the cup of tea, Francesca."

We got up and went to the front door.

"Come again any time, Fraze," she said, making that zh sound like the Z in azure. She glanced begrudgingly at me. "And I guess you can bring this lunk along."

"Don't put yourself out," I said sarcastically. _Why do I do that? What should I have said instead? What would Fraser have said? "I'd be honored." Something like that. You can insult the guy and he'll act like you were just as gracious as he, himself. He's a prince. What am I? Not on her radar, that's for sure._

We got into my car with Dief in the back and I started the engine. "Fraser," I said.

"Yes, Ray."

I wanted to ask all sorts of things like, "How do you train yourself to be polite? How come I can't stop myself from saying stupid things? Why do I always think of what I should have said after it's too late?" or, "How can you act so calm around a girl you know likes you?" Instead, I asked, "Do you think she hates me?"

"Who? Francesca?"

"Yeah."

"No," he said immediately.

"Well, do you think... you think I'm a pain to her?"

"Not at all."

"But I do annoy her."

"From time to time. But that's to be expected. You annoy everyone now and then. You can't help yourself."

"There's such a thing as being too honest, Fraser."

"Understood."

"Hey, um... has Ray ever said anything to you about his brother Paul?"

"Not really. I knew he had one."

"Well, it's weird, right? They haven't even spoken in years."

"It may be unusual for brothers, but it's hardly our business."

"Maybe not, but I was thinking... his birthday's at the end of summer, right?"

"September twenty-first."

"Right. Well, what if we got in touch with Paul and got him to come?"

He thought it over. "I think he would appreciate that very much, but if Paul wouldn't come when Ray was in the hospital, why would he come for his birthday?"

"You have a point, but he didn't have any notice for him being in the hospital. If we tell him about the party months in advance, he can probably get away, right?"

"Maybe. I suppose there's no harm in trying."

"Right. But don't tell anyone... especially not Franny. She might spill the beans."

"Beans?"

"You know, let the secret out."

"Ah, yes. I knew that. I'm sure Francesca would be discreet."

Maybe he was right. I decided to change the subject. "You're still staying at the consulate, right?"

"Yes... though I'll have to find other arrangements. My new commanding officer feels that my living there is a bit inappropriate."

"Bureaucrat," I said.

"Oh, he makes a valid point. After all, only visiting dignitaries are supposed to stay there overnight. And the night staff, of course. And besides which..."

"I get it. So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet. It's difficult to find a place that will accommodate both of us."

I glanced back at Diefenbaker. "Yeah... you could try my place. They're pet-friendly. Actually I think the place across the hall from me is still vacant. We could be neighbors." _And I'd see more of you than Vecchio—Ray—would,_ I thought with glee. Yeah, not proud of it. As I said, I'm insecure. Kinda needy.

"It's worth looking into," he said. "I met your landlady..."

"Yeah, when you got her to let you into my apartment. I still can't believe you did that."

"I needed to find you."

"You didn't lick anything in there, did you?"

"There was no need."

"Good. And for the record, there's _never_ any need."

We got to the consulate and I parked. "Hey, um... does it seem surreal to you, being back? It does to me. Like our northern expedition was all a dream or something."

He shook his head. "It feels a little strange, but it's not like a dream. If anything, it's like I started dreaming again when I came back here."

"So... Canada's your reality, and Chicago is mine?"

He looked thoughtful. "I don't know. Chicago has become important to me, but only because of the people I've known here. Canada will always be my home."

"I guess that's how it is for me, too. Flipped. The US, I mean, not Chicago in particular, though it's home for now." I wondered if he'd be going back to Canada again anytime soon. Did he miss the Yukon more than he would miss me?

"Well, you should be on your way," he said, giving my shoulder a little thump. "Get plenty of rest. I'll see you after the morning shift."

"Cool. Seeya."

* * *

The next couple of days were a little less awkward than the previous ones. Knowing Ray needed to get away to smoke now and then made me more sympathetic toward him, and I covered for him a couple of times. Franny kept hinting that she might just blow off her Saturday date to go bowling with Fraser and Ray, but she stopped saying things like that around her brother because he always shot her down. Even Fraser acted like it wasn't a good idea.

On Friday, Fraser and I went to get supper without Ray, who had some errands to do or something. I took the opportunity to ask, "How come Ray's so against taking his sister bowling with you? Did he say the other night when we had dinner at his place?"

"Yes," Fraser answered. "He informed me that the men who frequent Chicago bowling alleys tend to be very rude to women, and especially to young, attractive women such as Francesca."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"And you believed him?"

Beat. "Yes."

"Oh, my god, Fraser, he's snowing you."

"Snowing me?"

"Pulling the wool over your eyes. Giving you the business. He's just saying that because he doesn't want to hang out with his kid sister."

"I'm sure you're wrong, Ray."

I sighed. "Fraser... I think you've got a blind spot for this guy. Do you believe everything he tells you?"

"Well, no. But for the most part."

I turned my focus back onto my food. I felt bad for Franny, but I didn't know how to help. Fraser wouldn't believe Ray would lie to him, and I didn't want to jeopardize the new understanding we'd come to by confronting Ray about his sister.

"Something wrong?" Fraser asked after a minute.

"Eh, I don't know," I hedged. "Have you looked at any apartments yet?"

"No, but I spoke to your landlady on the phone. She said I could look at the one across from yours tomorrow."

"Oh, good. It's not real ritzy, but from what I've heard, it's nicer than the building where you used to live. The one that burned down."

"Dief and I are used to roughing it."

"Yeah, I know." I smiled, remembering the primitive campsites we had put together on the islands between Greenland and Canada. Fraser had even thrown together something of a half-snow cave, half-igloo that was just big enough for us and Dief to crawl inside. It had been surprisingly cozy. "But you wanna have someplace you can take your friends sometimes... and your lady-friends."

"Oh, well..." He did that thing where he looks around like something super interesting is going on that only he can see, and he is trying so hard to exude calmness that he looks close to panic.

It made me grin. "Don't worry. We'll find you something. Oh, and hey. I was thinking I'd tell Francesca after all, about my idea to get Paul out here for Ray's birthday. If she thinks it's good, she can give me his phone number or his address."

"Good thinking." Fraser was calm again, but now he looked like he was thinking hard about something.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"Oh..." He shook his head and gave me a weak smile. "Not really."

So, something was wrong. "What's up?"

"It's nothing."

Sometimes this would be when I put the pressure on and tried to wheedle it out of him, but he looked like he _really_ wasn't ready to talk. "Okay," I said.

We gave some leftovers to Dief, who kept looking for more when he'd eaten it all. Then I drove them back to the consulate again.

"Let me know when you're coming to see the apartment," I said, putting the passenger side window down. "I could pick you up if you want."

Fraser leaned on the door. "Thank you, but I planned on taking a taxi. Much as your landlady will be glad for you to vouch for me, seeing that I can afford a taxi may vouch for me more strongly." Fraser was finally getting that money was king in Chicago.

"You have a point."

"Will she want references?"

"Eh, it won't hurt. But she'll definitely want to see your last couple pay stubs."

"I'll be sure to bring them. Good night, Ray."

"Good night, Fraser. Seeya, Dief."

Dief barked once before trotting up the front steps. Fraser followed him.

I headed home where I decided to quickly spruce up my space a little in case Fraser wanted to hang out with me for a while the next day. The mess wasn't too bad... just some clutter I could take care of pretty quickly. But there was a mountain of dirty dishes. I sighed and started piling them in my dishpan so I could fill the sink with water. I would definitely deserve a beer when I got done. Maybe two.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. If you've got a minute, please leave a comment.  
_


	5. Night At the Ball

_I finally have a review! You're the bomb, Nutmeg9cat! I mean, there's something to be said for spilling your guts and knowing someone is listening/reading, but it's gratifying to get some sort of response besides, "Oh, sorry, what did you say?" I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope to hear from you again.  
_

* * *

Chapter Five: Night At the Ball

"So, when are you moving in?" I asked Fraser in my apartment the next day.

"Well, it's not exactly set in stone," he said, taking a seat on my second-hand sofa. "I ought to at least look at a couple of other options."

"But you'd be living next to me. And you said yourself that you and Dief are used to roughing it, so what's the problem?"

"There are pros and cons to living next to you, you know."

"Such as?"

"Well, on the pro side, if I thought of something in the middle of the night that would shed light on a case, I could just step across the hall and tell you."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yes. Epiphanies sometimes come to me in my dreams."

"...Isn't that a con?"

"Oh, no. It ensures that sleep won't cause me to forget what I thought of before I get the chance to tell you. On the con side, if your landlady could hear your dance practice in the apartment below yours, it stands to reason that I might be able to hear it in the one across from you."

I frowned. "She never said anything. And I doubt you'd hear it... It would have to go through two walls, not just one floor. And... I haven't danced for a while." I missed it. But it made me miss Stella.

"Perhaps not, but it's something to consider. On the other hand, it would make for convenient carpooling."

"Yeah, exactly."

"But Diefenbaker would probably start 'hounding' you for treats whenever you're home and I'm not."

Dief made a "Row" sound that seemed to say, "How dare you?"

"Eh... we'd figure it out." I petted Dief's head and went to sit by Fraser. "Where else are you looking?"

"Closer to my old neighborhood."

"That was not a good neighborhood. Drug dealers are scared to stay in that neighborhood, and my snitches won't go near it."

"I think you're exaggerating. I got to know the people there."

"You miss 'em?"

"I feel I did some good there."

"Will you stop being a saint and do something selfish for a change?"

"I'm just considering various possibilities."

"Fine, let _me_ be selfish for once."

He glanced at me. "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't know it was so important to you."

Great. Now he was making me sound pathetic. "Well, I don't want you to live here if you won't like it," I said defensively. "So go check out your other options."

"All right."

Awkward silence.

"Well, I should go if I want to tour another building this afternoon."

"You want to get lunch?"

"No, that's all right. Come on, Diefenbaker." Fraser headed for the door.

I grabbed Dief as he was getting up off the floor and mouthed at him, "Get him to live here." I doubted he understood me at all, or that he would try to influence Fraser even if he could understand me, but it made me feel a little better that Dief gave what could be mistaken for a little canine nod. Maybe it was just a mini sneeze. The floor was a little dusty.

* * *

I had a sandwich for lunch and then Welsh called me about some report I'd forgotten to file, or filed incorrectly or something. I didn't have anything to do other than feel sorry for myself about not going bowling that night, so I went down to the precinct.

I was surprised to find Francesca there, but I saw that she was on the phone, and I figured she probably liked to use the phone there to gossip where her family wouldn't overhear or yell at her to let someone else have a turn.

I quickly found the file Welsh had overlooked in my desk and took it to his office.

He met me at the door and yelled, "Francesca, you'd better be on a local call." She waved at him and kept talking. He looked at me. "Oh, you got it."

"Yeah, I filed it under violent crimes."

"Why can't you do everything alphabetically like the rest of us?"

"I do... Violent starts with a V."

For a moment, he looked like he was going to get violent, himself. "Eesh... you sound like her," he said, nodding at Franny. He took the file. "That's it. You can go."

"Yes, sir." I walked back toward my desk, kind of out of habit, and as I passed Franny, I heard her talking.

"Hey, so guess what! I blew off my date for tonight, and I can go bowling with you guys after all." After a short pause, she shook her head, smiling. "Now, Fraze, don't worry about a thing. I'm sure Ray will be fine with it... Trust me, he will... Well, I wanna go. Do you not _want_ me to go? ...Oh, come on, what's so terrible about a bowling alley? Which one are you going to? ...Fine. You know what? I'll just go with someone else, then. Or call that guy back, which is kind of humiliating, so thanks a lot... Yeah... yeah, I know... okay. Seeya."

I had sat at my desk, and when she hung up I pretended to be engrossed in the clutter at one side of it. Then I heard her give a tiny sigh, like maybe she was almost crying. I bit my lip. She wouldn't want me bugging her now. But I really wanted to help—that had to count for something, right?

I got up and went over to her workstation. "Hey... you okay?" I asked softly, not wanting to put her on the defensive.

She spared me a glance, and there were definitely tears in her eyes. "Oh... yeah, it's fine."

"No, come on. You can tell me."

She put her elbows on her desk and sighed into her hands. "That jerk I was going out with... I called him to cancel, and before I could say anything, he... he said he'd made other plans. Said he got a better offer. What the hell does that mean, 'got a better offer'?"

I knew, but I wasn't about to tell her, that it meant one of two things: Either the other girl was prettier, or the other girl was willing to jump in bed after the first date. "I'm sorry," I said. "Want me to go beat him up?"

She laughed a little, and a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. "Nah. That's too good for him."

"You're right. That was probably his end game all along. Guys are dying to get beat up by me."

She snorted. "I don't think you're trying to imply what you seem to be implying."

"I don't even know what I'm implying—I just wanna see you smile."

She made her mouth tight for a second to get herself under control and then looked up with a little smile. "Thanks."

"That's more like it. Hey, uh..." I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn't press my luck. But maybe this was the best chance I'd get. "Why don't you and I go see a flick tonight? I'm not doing anything."

"Mm..."

"They didn't invite me, either."

"Hmm." The little smile was back. "Guess I sounded kinda desperate."

"I don't mind being second choice." _Or is it third?_ "We can make it really informal. I can get you after dinner, and we'll see the movie and that's it. Whatever's playing."

"You don't mind seeing a romantic suspense thingy?"

I leaned toward her like I was about to reveal a deep, dark secret. "I'm a closet romantic suspense thingy _fanatic._ "

She giggled. "Okay, you're on. But can you park up the road a little? I don't want Ray to see you pick me up. He'd be a pain about it."

"No problem. What time?"

"Seven-thirty?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

I could hardly believe I had a date with Franny. I kept telling myself I needed to keep it low-key, because I had said the word "informal" to her. We weren't having dinner first. We weren't having drinks after. No dancing, no walk in the moonlight... just the movie. And furthermore, I was supposed to be cheering her up, not making her rethink our relationship.

I was right on time to pick her up, and she didn't keep me waiting more than a couple of minutes.

She was wearing a cute little suit dress with a skirt that ended mid-thigh. Her neckline was more modest than usual, but still a focal point, and a wide belt accentuated her hips. She carried a light jacket over one arm and a purse hung from her shoulder. "Am I late?" she asked.

"You're fine," I said, easily choosing discretion. And a double-meaning. She was _hella_ fine. I felt a little under-dressed in my jeans, maroon T-shirt and button-down shirt. At least they were my good jeans.

"I was trying to avoid Ma; she's been asking questions about my date all day."

"Got it."

We didn't talk much on our way to the theater. Franny started to open her purse when we got to the ticket counter, but I patted her hands away.

"No, I got this," I said.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

She smiled and waited for me to pay. "Thanks," she said when I handed her ticket to her.

"Wanna get popcorn?"

She looked up at me. "Okay."

"Let's get a big one and share it."

"Okay." She didn't hesitate. Maybe it was because I was still kind of like family, but it definitely meant she wasn't afraid of getting cooties from me, so I was glad.

I don't remember a lot of details about the movie—who was in it, what the main plot points were—but there was a decent car chase, and some interesting twists, and a good kiss at the end... a real textbook romantic suspense thingy.

I do remember our hands brushing a couple of times over the popcorn bowl. The first time it happened, she whispered "Sorry" and pulled her hand back.

"Go ahead," I said, holding out the bowl for her to grab a handful.

The next time it happened, neither of us said anything. We just moved on. That was nice. No pressure.

When the leading man said something stupid to the leading lady, Franny grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at the screen, yelling, "Come _on!"_

I laughed with a few other audience members, but some of them loudly hissed, "Shhh!"

When he said something else lame later, I grabbed a handful of popcorn, held the bowl (which was getting low at this point) out to Franny so she could get some, and then we both threw them toward the screen.

"Idiot,"I said.

"Moron!" yelled Franny.

A young guy two rows in front of us got showered with it, but he was one of the ones laughing.

"Will you cut it out?" said a woman behind us.

"Keep it down, or I'll get an usher to take you out," threatened the guy with her.

"Try it," I muttered, checking to make sure I'd brought my badge and pulling it out of my pocket just far enough for Franny to see what it was.

She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

But we were quiet for the last fifteen minutes or so, and the guy didn't make good on his threat.

"That was really fun," Franny said on the way back to the car.

"Yeah, it was."

"Boy, that guy didn't know how to smooth-talk his girl."

"Seriously. Even Fraser does better than that." I wished I hadn't said it as soon as I did, because I didn't want to make her think about him when we were out trying to forget how he and Ray ditched us.

She didn't seem bothered, though. "Even the deaf wolf does better!"

"Ha, yeah." I opened the passenger door for her and she got into the car.

"Hey, um... have you ever had gelato?" she asked when I got into the driver's seat.

"Gelato? That's Italian ice cream, right?"

"Pretty much. It's really good. I know this little place I think is open late. Want to check it out?"

I wanted to say yes right away, but I knew it would be smarter to put it off for another time. I might get a second date out of it. "I don't know... it's already nine-thirty. If we go there it'll be after ten by the time you get home. Is that okay?"

"Sure. It's not like I have a curfew."

"Okay, if you're sure."

So, maybe this would be our one and only date... Cinderella's trip to the ball. Then it was back to the kitchen to do more dishes. Or whatever Cinderella did before she married the prince.

The gelato turned out to be super good, though. And Franny looked really cute eating it.

* * *

 _Leaving you on a fluffy note this time... It doesn't get much better than that. Let me know what you think! ~Ray K.  
_


	6. 207-A

_Apparently I have two readers in Switzerland now. Awesome! I'm still holding out for some Canadians. Or Polish. That would be cool.  
_

* * *

Chapter 6: 207-A

I guess it was around 10:30 that I parked near the Vecchio house again. We could see that Ray's Riviera was parked in front of the house, and Francesca didn't want him to see that it was me dropping her off.

"I honestly didn't think I'd have such a good time," she admitted. "Thanks for getting me to go."

"Anytime," I said, giving her hand a little squeeze.

She smiled. "Good night... see you at work."

"Yup."

I watched her start toward the house and then I remembered I had wanted to ask her about Paul. I opened my door and stood up just as two dark figures ran at her out of the shadows.

"Franny!"

She barely had time to turn around before they got to her, and I had only made it around the car when one of the figures turned toward me. I could see a gun in his hand from the street lamp several yards behind him. It looked like a repeating handgun with a big mass on the muzzle that I recognized as a silencer. The other guy had a hand over Franny's mouth and a strong grip around her waist. He was dragging her toward a black car I hadn't noticed across the street.

"Let her go—we're police," I said, trying to sound forceful but doubting that the revelation would have any effect. I got out my badge.

The gunman deliberately pointed his gun at the ground near me and fired. The sound of the bullet biting the pavement was as loud as the muffled report had been.

I knew the next one wouldn't be a warning shot. I also knew it would take him about one second to refocus his aim on me. I dove forward.

My low attack knocked him off balance and he staggered back. From there, I put my attention on his gun hand, using both of mine to try to wrench the weapon away. I felt his knee hit my side, his left hand tearing at my neck, but I ignored the pain. One more good twist and the gun skittered across the pavement. I stomped in his direction and was lucky enough to connect with his ankle before I dove after the gun.

I felt him clawing at me, crawling up my body as I struggled to roll over, and finally I got there, gun in his face.

He sprang away from me like some kind of wild animal, hands up, palms toward me. He had a ski mask or something over his face.

"Let her go!" I shouted, getting to my feet.

The guy holding Franny grunted and suddenly her mouth was uncovered for a moment. "Take the shot!" she hollered at me, as if I was the stupid guy in the movie and she were throwing popcorn at me.

I took a couple of steps further from the gunman and closer to Franny. "Last chance!" I barked. "Drop her, or I put a cap in you right now!" I knew I couldn't make the shot. In the poor light and at this distance, to have a chance I would at least need my glasses. If I moved to put them on, they'd probably bundle her into the car in that second, and I'd be left shooting at the vehicle, wondering if I'd hit her by mistake. I had to bluff, and I was bluffing bigger than I ever had before.

The would-be kidnapper moved his hands to Franny's upper arms, and I fought to keep the hope off my face. Had to keep my eyes hard. The other guy was running to the car, and I had to fight harder. Then the first guy shoved Franny toward me and dove into the car, pulling the door shut as the tires squealed on the pavement. I thought about trying to shoot a tire, but it was just too dark, and by the time I got my glasses on, they were around the corner.

I put an arm around Franny and walked her back over to my car. "You hurt?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. Are you?"

"I'm okay. Call it in." I opened my door.

"Wait, I'm coming with you," she said.

"Don't be silly. It's you they were after."

"I know, and I wanna know why!"

"You're not a police officer."

"Well, I don't wanna stick around and explain what's going on to Ray!"

I glanced at the Vecchio house just in time to see the porch light come on. "Okay, one condition: you do what I tell you!"

"Done!"

We scrambled into the car and I pulled away from the curb fast.

"Dispatch," Franny said into the radio. "This is Francesca Vecchio calling from Detective Kowalski's vehicle. We're in the suit..."

"Pursuit," I corrected quickly, but without my usual critical tone.

"We're in pursuit of a black..."

"Four-door," I supplied.

"Four door... uh... sedan!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"It's a two-oh-seven-A," I told her.

"Two-oh-seven-A..." She covered the mouthpiece unnecessarily and asked, "What's that mean?"

"Attempted kidnapping."

"Oh, we have a code for that? Cool."

"Do you have a plate?" the dispatcher asked. "Make or model?"

"No plate..."

"It has a square insignia... might be a Dodge," I said. I had barely glimpsed it before the vehicle pulled away. "They were going west on Brookford." I turned down the road before the one the thugs had taken.

"Maybe a Dodge, heading west on Brookford Drive... hey, this isn't the road they took."

"I know. They took Brookford. We never take Brookford."

"We?"

"Ray Vecchio and I. It's narrow and always has cars parked along it, blocking the side roads. It's a nightmare."

"So, they're kinda trapped in there?"

"Oh, there's a way out if you go far enough," I said, concentrating on the path ahead and grimly pressing down on the gas pedal. "I'm just trying to get there first. Put my flashing light up there and turn it on, will ya?"

"Okay... be careful."

It took her a minute or two, but she found the light, got it to stay on the dash and figured out how to turn it on. I resisted the urge to say, "Finally."

I punched the gas again and then coasted through a quiet intersection before accelerating again. Franny was watching the alleys to our right. We were running out of road before Brookford let out into wider, more traveled roads.

"There they are!" Franny exclaimed suddenly.

"Dammit..." We were too late. They ran a stop sign and swerved right. I made the same turn a few seconds behind them.

"They're on Spencer Avenue now," Franny reported.

"North," I said.

"Heading north."

A new voice came from the radio. "Francesca?"

"Yes?"

"This is Lieutenant Welsh. What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Someone tried to abduct me, Lieutenant! They probably would have if Ray hadn't been there."

 _"Why_ are you in a car in pursuit of the people who tried to kidnap you?" Welsh said slowly, with irritation coming through loud and clear.

"That's... kind of a long story."

"I doubt that. Put your brother on."

"Uh... I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because he's not in the car."

 _"What?!"_

"It's Ray _Kowalski_ driving, not Ray Vecchio."

"I'm starting to see why you say it's a long story."

Franny huffed. "As if!"

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I gotta say, that stung a little. I took the transmitter from her. "Lieutenant, They're going west again; on Alexander now."

"Got 'em," said another voice.

"Okay, unies have them," said Welsh. "You bring miss Vecchio back to the station. You don't take a ride-along on a high-speed chase."

I didn't want to stop, but I knew he was right. "Yes, sir. We'll head back now."

* * *

When we got to the station I took my jacket off and offered it to Franny.

"I have a jacket," she said. "I'm okay."

"I know, but... when someone's in shock, you're supposed to keep them warm," I said.

"I'm not in shock. Am I? How do you tell?"

"Well... I'm not sure, but I think you're way too calm. The Franny I know would be having a fit over being manhandled."

"That's true." She went to sit at her desk. "Oh, god, I'm in shock..."

I got out the report forms and put one in front of her. "Just fill this out as best you can," I told her. "And make sure you sign the bottom. I can fill in this stuff up here later. Like the date and all that."

"Okay." She picked up a pen and stared at the paper for a minute.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... yeah. I'm okay." She started writing.

I went back to my desk and started on my own report. It was better to get as much paperwork out of the way as possible. Soon, Welsh came over to my desk.

"I didn't want to interrupt her," he said, glancing at Franny. "Can you tell me anything about these kidnappers?"

"There were at least two, but there could have been another guy waiting in the car," I said. "The two I saw were near my height... well, the one who grabbed Franny might have been a little taller. Dressed in black. Masks, gloves. Oh, I got this." I pulled the silenced handgun out of my pocket.

"And how did you come by that?"

"It's all going in the report... do we have to get into it now?"

"I guess not. I'm going to put my ear back to the radio."

"Okay. Keep me posted." I put the gun in an evidence bag and sealed it before going on with my report.

As I was finishing up, Welsh came back out of his office. "They lost them," he said.

"Seriously?" I groaned and put my head down on my desk. "I had 'em. I had 'em!"

"I know. But once they got outside town, they just vanished. You were right about the make, though. It's a Dodge."

"Lotta good that does us without a plate."

"It might, if we can find a connection to the gun."

"Maybe," I said, knowing it was a long shot.

"What time is it?" asked Franny.

"About eleven-thirty," said Welsh.

I jumped up. "Aw geez, Franny... we gotta get you home. Are you done there?"

She nodded.

"Okay." I took her form and quickly scribbled in the missing information. "If you need anything else from me," I told Welsh, "I'll get it to you tomorrow."

"I'll let you know," he answered. "For now, I want you and Miss Vecchio strictly ten-ten-A, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's ten-ten-A, again?" Franny asked me, sounding a little sleepy.

"Home and off duty," I answered. "Come on, I'll take you home."

* * *

"Should we have called?" I asked Franny as we neared her house.

"Oh, probably... but we're almost there now."

"Okay if I go up to the house?"

"If you want." She still sounded sleepy.

"Okay. I'll walk you to the door, then."

"Did all that really just happen?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why would a couple of guys team up to kidnap me?"

I didn't want to answer her. This wasn't some stalker or an opportunistic kidnapping. I had a hunch the men we encountered were hired specifically to kidnap Franny, and it might have something to do with Ray's undercover work. "I don't know. Don't worry about it tonight." I parked beside her house.

"But what if they come back?"

"They won't." I got out and walked around to open her door for her. "Not tonight, anyway. And you're safe here. Ray will make sure of that." I took her hand and walked up the steps with her.

"How come I'm more scared now?" she asked in a small, shaky voice.

"That's probably the shock wearing off. It's all catching up to you."

"Today was so stupid!" she blurted. "I was so mad at that guy, and then my brother for ditching me, and then we had so much fun and everything was nice, and then two _strangers—"_ she was all but shrieking now "—come out of nowhere and try to carry me off god knows where..." She was shaking.

"Shh, Franny, it's okay." I put my arms around her and she collapsed against my shoulder, crying.

A moment later, the door opened, and we moved apart a little sheepishly before it opened all the way. Of course, it was Ray.

"There you are!" Ray exclaimed. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked me. He looked back at Franny. "Are you crying? Why are you crying?" Back at me. "She's crying, you jackass! What did you do?"

I put my hands up, trying to calm him down. "Take it easy. It's... it's kind of a long story."

Franny couldn't help me out because she was still choked up.

"Take it easy? I just bet it's a long story. Franny, get in the house."

"Oh, Ray, don't be a moron," Franny sobbed.

"Get in the house!" he repeated, louder.

She sniffled and pulled my jacket off. "Here," she said thickly. "Thanks."

"Good night, Franny," I said. "Get plenty of rest." I was pissed off at Ray for cutting our goodbye short, but I knew he didn't have the big picture yet, and there would be no reasoning with him until he did. I shrugged my jacket on as she went inside.

Ray closed the door behind her. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Nothing that justifies this kind of reaction," I said, letting my irritation through a little.

"She's my sister; I'll be the judge of what kind of reaction it justifies!"

"Fine, but I can't explain when you're like this." I turned and went down the steps.

"You stay away from her, Kowalski, you hear me!" He shouted after me.

"That'll be a little hard when we're working together... _Ray_ ," I grumbled, getting into my car. As I pulled away, in my mirror I saw him go to one of the porch support posts and give it a kick. I winced, both because I knew he probably hurt his foot, and because I knew the kick was intended for me. I remembered all too well how Franny had been convinced her brother might have murdered a man for pressing his advantage with her.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading this far. I hope you liked it and can take the time to let me know. ~Ray k.  
_


	7. Recovering Lost Ground

_I think I'd probably get more readers if I classified this story as a romance or something, but it's not really. It's just my life. And what's a life but a fudge ripple sundae of humor and angst?  
_

 _Thanks for the new reviews, Nutmeg9Cat. I really appreciate you taking the time to comment. I mean, **your** taking the time to comment. Seriously, Fraser, do you have to correct every little thing?_

* * *

Chapter Seven: Recovering Lost Ground

I didn't sleep well. I knew Ray's rant hadn't been my fault at all, but I kept thinking of things I'd have liked to say to him. How I would have liked to see the look on his face when he figured out I actually _helped_ his sister, rather than being the one to make her cry. Then Welsh called me and asked me to come in so I could go over some more details and stuff. He would leave Franny alone until Monday if I did. Of course, I went.

It was getting toward lunchtime and I was hungry when I left Welsh's office for the final time that day. I went to make sure I hadn't left anything important at my desk and found Ray sitting at it.

"Hi," he greeted me.

"Hi," I answered warily before starting to move stuff around on my desk.

He stood up. "Look, I know I owe you an apology."

That was a good start.

"I have this bad habit of shooting my mouth off before I have the facts," he went on. "And I'm especially prone to overreacting where my sister's involved."

I nodded, not looking at him.

"So... Franny told me what happened. There I was ignoring her, taking her for granted, not there to protect her, and there you were, doing all that stuff for me. I was the jackass last night, not you. I'm sorry."

"You're not wrong," I muttered.

"You gonna leave me hangin' or what?"

It was tempting, but I didn't have it in me. "No." I looked up at him. "It's fine, man."

"Just like that?"

"I knew it would get straightened out, and I get why you were so pissed."

"Well, I'm even more pissed now; just not at you."

"Yeah."

He surprised me by grabbing my shoulder tight, like I was important to him. "You probably saved her life, you know?"

"Maybe," I said, not sure how to respond.

"She said you attacked a man who had a gun on you... you're one crazy guy." He let go of me.

"That's nothing new."

"Did he hurt you?"

I shrugged. "Nothing serious."

He smiled. "Good. You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Let me buy you lunch."

"Oh, I couldn't do that... might be misconstrued as payment."

"Shut up."

* * *

We were pretty comfortable together again by the time we finished eating. We started talking about the previous night's incident, and speculating on why it happened.

"I never thought they'd go after her," Ray said, staring at his coffee cup. "I knew I might be a target, but her..." He shook his head.

"I guess they went for her because she's a softer target," I said. "Do you think they knew who I was?"

"They knew you weren't me, anyway. Otherwise, they might have actually shot you instead of giving you a warning. That or tried to kidnap you instead. I don't know. I guess we should ask Benny."

"Yeah... something's queer. My gut says this is someone who doesn't just want you dead—they want to hurt you, bad. Like, maybe even if they did think I was you, taking Franny and leaving me in the dust might have been all according to plan."

"Langoustini did have a lot of enemies. Guess I should put together a list."

"But they know now that you're not him. So whatever made them do this has to be something he did when you were him... if it's related to him at all."

"Oh, yeah. You're right. Eh, but I didn't do anything _that_ bad... I tried my best not to piss people off."

"You tellin' me you didn't have anyone whacked while you were under? You were pretty stoic when you marched us off to shoot us."

"I was acting."

"I know, but you were that guy for over a year. Wouldn't someone notice if the body count didn't move during that time?"

He stared at his coffee cup again. "Look, even though I'm not on that assignment anymore, there are still things I can't tell."

I guessed that meant he'd had to do some things he didn't want to admit, to me or his family. Probably not even to Fraser. Maybe least of all to Fraser. "Okay, but you start going through that stuff and come up with some motives, all right? If we want Franny and the rest of your family to be safe, we need to figure this out."

"I know."

I got out my wallet.

"I said it's on me."

"I know, I just thought I'd leave a tip."

"Service here sucks," Ray said, not too quietly.

I smiled and shook my head. "It's not that bad." I dropped two dollars on the table. "I'll see you tomorrow," I said. "Watch your back."

"Yeah. You, too, big guy."

I smiled to myself on the way out. That was the first time Ray had used some nickname for me that didn't come out sounding like an insult.

* * *

I called Fraser that evening, and he sounded almost angry that I hadn't told him what happened sooner.

"I guess it didn't occur to me," I said, feeling a little bad. "She was safe and... I guess I thought it would keep. Didn't want to worry you."

"How can I help?"

"There isn't much we can do. Ray and I figure he might be the reason—someone trying to get to him through Franny. He's working on narrowing down the suspect list. In the meantime there's an APB out on the car, but we don't have a plate."

"What do we have?"

"Black Dodge sedan. Looked new, like in the last five or six years."

"Well, we've lost a day, but maybe there's still some evidence. Meet me at the crime scene."

"Fraser, forensics went over the place they tried to grab her. The only solid piece of evidence is the gun."

There was a short pause before Fraser said, "Ray, how many times have you been ready to move on from a crime scene before I found a crucial piece of evidence?"

I bit my lip. "A few..."

"I'll see you there in fifteen minutes."

Before he could hang up, I said, "Wait; I'll pick you up. See, this is where being neighbors and carpooling would come in handy!"

We went back to the Vecchio house and had a look around. I shouldn't have doubted him by this time, what with all the amazing work I've seen him do, but there I was, hands in pockets, watching him mess around in dirt and leaves and gravel, waiting for him to admit he couldn't find anything.

"Where exactly was the car parked?"

I trudged across to where I had seen it. "About here."

"Ah. Now, it did rain a bit Friday night. the water would have dried up by the following evening, but the rain did wash a bit of dirt and sand, essentially silt, along this side of the road by the sidewalk, and toward this storm drain. The road runs north and south, and the placement of the buildings would mean that this spot got very little direct sunlight. Ergo, it is very likely that this silt was still damp on the night in question. Could this be their tire track?"

I barely glanced at the spot he indicated. "Whether it is or not, I'm sure forensics took a picture of it already."

"Would you consider the question, please?"

I couldn't refuse when he asked like that. "Maybe," I said. Then, "No, probably not. See, if you wanna peel away fast, you don't park right up next to the curb like that. If you're in a hurry, you might scrape along the side. And I just remembered something: they really laid a patch when they took off. I heard their tires squealing." I went to a dark spot on the pavement and saw a little bit of tread imprinted at the edge. "This could be it."

"Probably so," Fraser agreed. "It was one of the first things Diefenbaker took interest in, which suggests that it's from some of the most recent traffic. So, unless someone else 'laid a patch,' as you say, in the last twenty-four hours, this is the Dodge."

"Pretty good, but I bet forensics found this, too."

Fraser went back to the "silt" by the sidewalk. "If the car wasn't parked that close to the curb, someone might still have _walked_ that close to it—when they were getting into or out of the car?" His voice went up in a questioning tone at the end.

I thought back over the incident, closing my eyes for better recall. "Maybe... did the other guy run around or get in on this side?" I couldn't remember, and it was starting to frustrate me. I opened my eyes. "Okay, come here," I said.

Fraser joined me in the road.

"Now, stand here, facing this way," I said, taking him by the arm and positioning him. I stepped back and looked at him. "You're the guy who's got Franny."

Fraser put his arms up, as if he were holding a prisoner.

"Right... I had the gun on him, and the other guy went running for the car." I frowned in thought for a moment. "He went around!" I exclaimed suddenly. "I didn't think about it at the time, because I was so focused on Franny, but he went around to the driver's door, I'm sure."

Fraser went back toward the sidewalk. "So, this might be your gunman's footprint."

I knelt and looked at the spot. It was deeper at the front and very smudged at the back. The tread wasn't very discernible. "Say it is... can we get anything useful from it? It's pretty messed up."

"He looks like a size nine and a half or ten. That's something. Also, the shape and general look of the tread, however fuzzy, seems to be more congruous with those of boots, not shoes."

"Boots? In the summer?"

"They're not winter boots... perhaps military or something similar."

"What, like Mountie boots?"

"No, but you're thinking in the right direction. Perhaps combat boots... not actual ones, but the ones that are sort of in fashion."

"Those wanna-be punk rocker boots? That kind of thing?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

"Also, if I'm interpreting Dief's assessment correctly, at least one person who was here recently wasn't from this area. Probably from out of town, or even out of state."

I was skeptical, but I went with it for the time-being. "Like someone from Vegas?"

"Possibly. Perhaps if I could give him samples of things found in Las Vegas, he could give us a more positive result on that possibility."

"Eh, don't worry about that for now," I said, envisioning Fraser offering Dief playing cards, cigars and poker chips to smell. I looked up and saw Ray coming out of his house.

"Hey," he said, when he was close enough. "You got anything?"

"Not much," I said. "We think this is the gunman's footprint and that's their skid mark."

"That's something. Uh, we're gonna have dinner soon here... you wanna join?"

I kind of did, but I felt like it would be imposing, so I said, "Maybe not tonight... I think Franny could do without the pressure. She's gonna have to go over everything again tomorrow."

"True." Ray looked at Fraser, who had moved to the middle of the road. "So, you got anything else?"

"A bullet hole," Fraser answered.

I walked across to look at the spot in the pavement where forensics had dug out the bullet. "Yeah, he aimed at the ground on purpose. For whatever reason, he didn't want to kill me."

"Why make extra trouble?" said Ray. "If you're not a target and you're not armed... plus, you told them you were a cop, right?"

"Yeah."

"It's sounding like this guy was hired. He's not messing with anyone that's not part of his contract."

"If he's a pro, we probably won't get much from the gun, will we?"

"Nah. They're too careful for that. He had gloves on, so no prints. Could have bought the gun someplace they don't keep good records. Lots of states are pretty loose on the rules when it comes to gun and knife shows. Some people don't ask for ID when they make a sale."

"Hm," said Fraser.

"You gonna tell us we should get stricter gun laws, like Canada?"

"Perhaps if you merely enforced the laws you already have, tracking down people's weaponry would be a little easier."

"Yeah, you would think."

"At least cops and crooks aren't the only ones with guns," I put in. "The ordinary, honest citizen can own and carry them, too."

"That's what makes America great," Ray said.

"Really?" asked Fraser. "I thought it was your concept of free speech, religion and expression."

We looked at each other and then said, "Nah," together.

* * *

 _You can put the Mountie in America, but you'll never get America into the Mountie. But maybe that's why we're such a good team. It's that time again: you know what to do. Favorite, follow, comment! ~RayK  
_


	8. Details

_Here's another chapter! I have more ready, but I'm trying not to post too quickly, so I don't get all caught up and then burn out and leave you hanging.  
_

* * *

Chapter 8: Details

I again didn't sleep well Sunday night. Mondays are always a drag, but this one was particularly suckish. If not for the fact that I wanted to see how Franny was doing, I might have stayed in bed. I stirred some extra M&M's into my coffee and gulped it down.

I got to the station just in time for Francesca to bring me and Ray a couple of frothy cappuccinos. Ray looked surprised.

"No charge for this?" he asked her.

"Eh, you may be my brother, but even you deserve for someone to bring you coffee now and then," she said. She turned to me with another cup. "You like it sweet, right?"

I smiled and had to stop myself from saying, "Like my women." Instead I just said, "Yeah, thanks." I set the cup on my desk. "You okay?"

She blew her bangs out of her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. "Well... I guess so. Ray said you two made up, and I've had some time to calm down. So yeah, I think I'm okay. I'm still accepting hugs, though."

I opened my arms. "I got one for you any time," I said.

She hugged me tight. "It kinda hit me when I was telling Ray what happened... you really could have been killed."

"I was a little hasty. But I knew if I didn't take that chance, two things would happen. First, your brother probably would have killed me, anyway."

"Ha, probably." She moved back and brushed at her eyes. "What was the other thing?"

I hesitated. Ray was watching us, and he could definitely hear us. I told myself not to let it bother me. "I might never have seen you again. And that would have been a heck of a lot worse."

She gave me a little smile, but didn't say anything.

Welsh emerged from his office and approached Ray. "Have a plan for your investigation, detective?" he asked.

"I have a line of inquiry to follow," Ray answered.

Welsh gestured to me and Franny. "Can your team handle it, or do you want extra help on this?"

"Until we have more forensic evidence or clear motives, three people will be more than enough, sir."

"Okay, keep me posted." He stopped by my desk. "Glad you're doing all right," he told Franny. "I'd like to get a few more details from you if I can."

She nodded, looking a little nervous.

"Want me to go with you?" I whispered as Welsh started back to his office.

She shook her head. "I'll be okay. Thanks."

I sat at my desk and took a sip of my cappuccino. It was amazing.

"Hey, Ray."

I looked over at the other Ray. "Yeah?"

"You got a thing for her?"

Shoot, he was asking me directly. I looked back at Welsh's office. I could see the back of Franny's head. She was sitting in a chair in front of the lieutenant's desk. I still felt a kind of big-brother protectiveness for her, but I still found her attractive, too. "Something," I said finally.

After a tense pause, he said, "Well, just be careful. If she hurts you, I'll kill her."

I looked at him in surprise and saw that he was grinning.

"Oh... I meant to say that the other way around, didn't I?"

I snorted. "Why do I get the feeling you're gonna make me pay either way?"

"All I'm gonna say is, being my kid sister's boy friend doesn't come cheap. Make sure you're serious. And, uh... being my enemy doesn't, either."

"Got it."

I started pulling up information on the gun I had found. It was an automatic handgun—kind of fancy. Not cheap. Not something you see at your average gun or knife show. Possibly foreign. The gun itself was still with the forensics team, so I couldn't look up specifics on it, but we should get it back soon. In the meantime, it seemed like all I could do was speculate.

"Need something new to work on?" Ray asked me a little later.

"Sure. What have you got?"

He gave me a couple of printouts. "These are some of the guys I rubbed elbows with while I was undercover, and might possibly have pissed off. I can't give you details, but you can start digging for info on them. See what they're up to these days, and look for any sources that might be able to tell us whether they've mentioned me lately."

I started in on investigating the men in question. It wasn't very interesting work, but it kept me busy. At lunchtime, Fraser brought us takeout and we all ate in the lunchroom with Franny. She gave Fraser a hug before sitting down.

"Did Welsh get everything he needed from you this time?" I asked her.

"Yeah, pretty sure," she answered. She sounded tired.

"Good," said Ray, "because I can use another set of hands on a keyboard. I have some mob people I want you to read up on."

"Are they guys you were getting information on while you were undercover?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Ray answered with practiced ease.

"That is what this is about though, right?"

"We don't know that yet," I told her. "But it's our working theory."

"Hey, man..." Ray started.

"She's not stupid," I interrupted him. "She might as well know why we're doing what we're doing."

I could tell he wasn't happy with me, but he didn't say any more.

"Francesca," said Fraser, "do you mind if I ask you something about Saturday night?"

"Okay."

"When one of the men grabbed you, he put his hand over your mouth, yes?"

"Yeah..."

"Was he wearing gloves?"

"Yeah."

"What did the material feel like?"

"Um..." She frowned. "Like work gloves, but not the heavy leather kind. Like a knit, but with those little rubber dots on the palm."

"Made for gripping tools," Fraser concluded.

"They could have got those anywhere," said Ray.

"Did you smell anything on them?"

"It just smelled like work glove," Franny answered. "And, um... kind of... another kind of rubber. Kind of a nicer smell."

"New car smell?" Fraser suggested.

"Yeah! That's it."

"Okay," I said, putting my hands up to ensure the others would let me talk out my line of thought. "So, the guy who grabbed Franny was originally driving. The new car smell on his gloves was from the steering wheel. But then things don't go quite how they planned, so the gunman ends up running around to the driver's side of the car. Maybe he was gonna ditch his partner..."

"Or maybe," Fraser picked up where I left off, "he knew that it would be more awkward for his partner to negotiate with you and get away cleanly if he had to go around to the far side, so he was giving him another option."

"But... does it matter?" Franny asked.

"Probably not much," I said, "but it tells us there were only two of them. Otherwise, they could have relied on the third guy to rev the engine while they were dealing with us."

"A wheel man," she said, sounding proud of herself.

"Right," said Ray.

"So, how do you find a kidnapper team for hire?"

"That's tricky. You gotta know people who know people who know people."

"You must know some of the same people that the client knows," I said.

"Yeah, but... it's a thick web, and none of them are gonna want to talk to me."

"They don't know me. I could go undercover, go to Vegas, use what you know about connections there to—"

"Stop right there," said Franny. "I just got one Ray back from undercover work; I don't need the other running off to the same place to deal with the same sleazeballs and risking his neck for a crime that didn't even go off right."

"She has a point," said Fraser. "Since the kidnapping wasn't completed, we won't have FBI support on this. Without FBI support, your going to Las Vegas on a long shot like that would be an unnecessary risk, to say the least." He looked up at me. "By the way, did either of the men say anything to you?"

I shook my head. "I don't think either one spoke."

"The one holding me made some noise when I bit him," said Franny. "Sounded like he had a pretty deep voice, but that's all I could tell."

"You didn't taste anything on his glove, did you?" Fraser asked.

"No... just the same stuff I smelled, I guess." She grimaced.

He looked at me. "You were in close contact with the gunman as well," he said. "In your struggle, did you smell anything..."

"I'm not like you, Fraser," I cut in. "I don't go smelling people's breath to see where they've been."

"Aw, just humor him," said Ray.

I thought back. "Uh... gunpowder. He'd just fired the gun. And, um..." I closed my eyes, trying to feel how I had during the struggle. "Something kind of minty? Only... with a weird edge to it."

"Toothpaste?" asked Fraser.

"No."

"Aftershave?" suggested Franny.

"No."

"Gum?" said Ray.

I squinted harder. "Gum. Maybe... no, nicotine gum!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My buddy from high school... he was hooked on cigarettes so bad by the time he got to college, he even chewed nicotine gum at school because he couldn't smoke. Always used to have a wad in his mouth. The teachers would make him spit it out, and he'd replace it by the next class. It's been a while, but I remember how it smelled. It wasn't OTC then, so he had to get a prescription for it."

"But a prescription is no longer required?" asked Fraser.

"Nope."

"That's too bad. It could have helped us track him down through a doctor or pharmacist."

"Hm... well, maybe he's been chewing it a long time. Maybe he got a prescription for it years ago."

"It's way too thin a lead," said Ray.

"Yeah, you're right."

"Still, we're putting together a profile," said Fraser. "The more we know about them, the more likely we are to find them."

"Or we could just wait for them to try again," said Franny.

We all looked at her.

"What? They're gonna try again, right? If they were hired to do this, they can't quit until the job's done—isn't that how it works?"

"We're not using you as bait," I said.

"Absolutely not," Ray agreed.

"There is another option," said Fraser. "We could get a police look-alike to pose as Francesca."

"Still kind of dangerous," said Ray. "I doubt Welsh would go for it. And I don't know any police ladies who owe me that kind of favor."

"Or you could train me," said Franny. "You know, teach me kickboxing, and to use a gun..."

"You and a gun are not mixing. Ever."

She took an angry bite of her sandwich, chewed and swallowed it. Then she said, "Well, either way, I'm kind of waiting around for them to try again. I might as well have some kind of plan."

"That much is true," said Fraser. "We could take the 'Dog chases cat chases mouse' approach."

"Is this gonna be an Eskimo story?" asked Ray.

Fraser shook his head. "No."

Ray waved a hand at him. "Proceed."

"If a dog is chasing a cat which is chasing a mouse, the dog can get to the cat faster if he starts chasing the mouse."

"'Cause the cat would always be one step ahead, but the dog can keep up by running after the mouse. Gotcha."

"So, we need to chase Franny?" I asked.

"No," said Fraser, "but rather than searching this proverbial haystack for the needle that is the kidnappers, we should start thinking like the kidnappers. They must be observing Francesca's movements. They saw Ray park a little distance from the Vecchio house to pick her up, so they decided to lie in wait and make their move if he did the same when dropping her off. Since that plan was thwarted, what will they do next?"

"They'll look for another time when she's likely to be alone," said Ray. "They'll have to be watching her all the time... She doesn't have her own car; before I started driving her, she was taking a bus in the morning."

"So, it's unlikely that they were following her before your return to Chicago. It would have been easy enough to waylay her on her way to the bus stop."

"Right."

We had the ball rolling now. We finished eating and headed back to our workstations to keep brainstorming. It felt like we would have results soon.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! I'd like to read something you wrote... in the reviews. ~Ray K.  
_


	9. Manhunt

_I see a couple of people made it to chapter 8. Here's 9 for ya.  
_

* * *

Chapter Nine: Manhunt

That afternoon, I interrupted everyone's research when a new thought occurred to me.

"Since they didn't succeed in kidnapping Franny, and now we're being extra careful with her, do you think they might pick another target?"

"Like my mom or Maria or one of the kids?" said Ray.

"Right."

Ray picked up his phone and soon we heard him speaking to his mother. "Ma, are you at home? Is Maria there? Where did she go?"

We waited anxiously.

"Okay, and the kids? ...All right, listen. This is important. I want you to keep the other kids with you and stay in the house. Keep all the doors and windows locked. I'll explain later... Love you, too." He hung up the phone. "Maria took the baby shopping," he told us.

"Oh, boy," I said.

"I know where she usually goes," said Franny. "We can probably find her before she heads home."

"Okay. I'm gonna call Tony, just in case. Then we can go."

"Should we alert your brother in New York?" asked Fraser.

"Nah. The fact that we aren't in contact is what's keeping Paulie safe right now."

We trusted Ray's judgment on that. A few minutes later, he hung up the phone again.

"Okay, Tony's on the alert. Now, I vote at least two of us go looking for Maria, but no more than three. We don't want to make what we're doing obvious. Franny should be one, because she's got the best idea where to look."

"I'll go," I offered.

Ray made a face like he didn't particularly want to send me off with his sister, but he was forcing himself to consider it. "I'd rather it were me or Fraser. Fraser's got that uncanny nose for trouble, and if I'm out with her and we run into Maria, it could be seen as normal family stuff. You... I just see the least reason to send you."

I wasn't sure that was legit, but I didn't say so. "But Fraser doesn't drive."

"Okay, I'll drive. Fraser, you coming or staying?"

I clenched my teeth. Fraser would make an unbiased decision. I wanted him to stay, but not if it meant Franny wouldn't be well-protected.

"I'll send Diefenbaker with you," Fraser decided. "He's good in a crisis, and sometimes less conspicuous than I am, even being a canine. Meanwhile, Ray and I will try to discern where the kidnappers might lie in wait for Maria and attempt to take them by surprise."

"Stay in touch," Ray said. "Don't try anything crazy without backup."

"Understood." Fraser caught Dief's eye. "Go with Ray," he said.

Dief wagged his tail briefly before trotting over to press himself against my leg. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"My mistake. The other Ray."

Dief made a grumbling sound.

"Oh, come on, Dief baby," said Franny. "I have to put up with him, too."

Dief went to her.

"Whatever," said Ray. "Let's move."

* * *

I can't even remember half the stuff Fraser told me when he was breaking down our theories to figure out the kidnappers' next move. What I do remember is us sneaking around the buildings within a block or two of the Vecchio house, trying to find the best vantage point for someone trying to take Maria by surprise on her way home. Fraser wanted to split up, but I didn't like him being alone without a gun. Besides, if I'm honest, he was more likely to spot a suspect than I was, and I wanted to be nearby if he did.

I had last called Vecchio's phone when we got to the area, and he hadn't located Maria yet. Fraser and I walked carefully from one building to another. I felt prepared with my gun in its shoulder holster and my glasses ready in my breast pocket.

"I wonder if the guy I tackled had a backup gun, or if he had to go looking for a local dealer to replace it," I said quietly. "Maybe we should be shaking up snitches about gun runners."

Fraser put up a hand. "Shh."

I froze and listened.

Fraser closed his eyes for a few seconds, then beckoned for me to follow him. He took me inside an apartment building.

"I believe I heard a window opening," he told me. "Third floor, facing the street."

I had learned not to question the pinpoint accuracy of his hearing. I put my glasses on my head, ready to pull them down, and checked my gun before we proceeded to the stairs.

"It's highly unlikely that the kidnappers would rent an apartment here," he said in a hushed voice, "so he would be at a hallway window."

"Maybe it was just a tenant getting some fresh air," I whispered back.

"It is possible," he admitted. "Though the middle of a weekday afternoon is when most of them would be at work."

"So, it's a housewife or something."

"Then why couldn't I hear anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Like an appliance running, a child whining, a TV or radio playing? What housewife remains completely silent? Also..." We had just reached the third floor, and Fraser had paused at the door. He closed his eyes and inhaled a long, slow breath through his nose. "The only smoke smell is stale... no one has smoked on this floor since this morning. In fact, there's a fresh breeze. Whoever it is didn't open the window to smoke."

"Big deal," I said. I don't know why, but I always end up challenging his theories one way or another. Maybe because it annoys me how he can go on a really thin lead and end up being right, but I can go on strong evidence and end up being wrong.

He sniffed again. "And there's something else. Can't you smell it?"

I shook my head. "I'm not a bloodhound."

"Nicotine gum, if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh, come on. You've got to be kidding me."

"I don't kid about kidnappers. I'm going to open the door on three."

I sighed and pulled my glasses down. I nodded to him.

"One... two... three."

He pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway just as my mobile phone rang.

 _Crap, crap, crap..._

While I tried to silence my phone without dropping my gun, I heard Fraser say, "Excuse me..." and then, "Oh, dear" right before he rejoined me in the stairwell.

"Ray, he's armed."

"I figured!" I handed my phone to Fraser and yelled, "Chicago PD! Throw down your weapon!"

To my surprise, I heard a clunk on the floor of the hallway. Tentatively, I pulled the door back toward me. Then I heard the distinct sound of a silenced pistol shot and a sharp cracking as a bullet bit through the door to my left. I'd been duped.

"Throw it down!" I shouted again. I would have returned fire through the door, but I was afraid of inadvertently hurting a tenant.

I could hear Fraser relaying to Ray what was going on. I distinctly heard the words, "Oh, Ray, we're not going to die" in that tone that makes you feel like he thinks you're a kindergartner.

I took a deep breath. I was pretty sure that this guy didn't want to kill us, but there was only one way he could get away: the elevator. We hadn't taken it because we wanted to sneak up on him. He had probably walked over quietly, dropped his gun on the floor, picked it up immediately and fired at me, all to cover his getting into the elevator. I burst out of the stairwell just in time to see the door closing.

"Damn it! Fraser, he's going down!"

We raced down the steps to the ground floor. When we arrived, the elevator was standing open. We ran past it and back outside where I could see a dark figure about to duck around the corner of the building.

I fired my gun at the ground. "Freeze!"

He kept going. I had paused to fire my gun, but Fraser had kept going, so he was ahead of me now, and even in boots he's pretty fast. I had to push hard to keep up. When we rounded the corner, I took a shot at a metal trashcan ahead of the suspect, and he faltered.

"Next one hits you!" I shouted. "Stop and drop your gun!"

He stopped.

"I'd drop the weapon," Fraser said to him calmly. "My friend has missed you twice now on purpose... just as you've missed him twice on purpose. Let's call it even and go along to the station quietly, shall we? Before someone gets hurt."

Slowly, the man set his gun on the ground.

"Okay, step back," I called. When he did as I said, I instructed him to put his hands behind his back and I moved forward to cuff him. I gave him a quick frisking to make sure he didn't have any more weapons on him. I found a utility knife and put it in an evidence bag along with the gun, which seemed to be the twin of the first one I had taken, silencer and all.

Noting the black combat boots he wore, I yanked up his pant leg and was gratified to see a patch of red, scuffed skin. "Gotcha pretty good, didn't I?"

As I was saying this, Fraser lifted my phone to his ear again. "Nothing to worry about," he said cheerfully. "We have a suspect in custody. However, don't cancel the backup. I'm sure his partner is in the vicinity, and we need to find him... Understood."

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He was calling to tell us two things. First, he found Maria."

"Oh, good."

"Second, Lieutenant Welsh called him to say that uniformed police located the Dodge. It was found abandoned outside of town."

"Stolen?"

"Indeed."

I looked at my prisoner, a young-ish dark-haired individual with two days' growth of stubble. "Sounds like your rap sheet's getting longer. Let's go."

* * *

Ray wanted to interrogate our prisoner, but Welsh told him he was too close to the case. I handled it instead.

The prisoner had no ID on him, so we had to dig for his identity in our databases. He was keeping his mouth shut while he waited to see whether or not we caught his partner.

"We're going to find out who you are soon," I told him. "If you want to do this the smart way, and I think you do, you need to give us full cooperation all the way. That's the kind of thing judges like to hear. They like to hear things like 'good behavior,' 'full cooperation' and 'helpful information.' If you don't talk before we find your partner—and we will find him, make no mistake—then we're going to be making him the same offer. Now, you may have been the one holding the gun, but you didn't shoot anyone. One marksman to another, I know you were _careful_ not to shoot anyone. I'd be happy to tell the judge that, but you've got to do something for me in return."

While I gave him this speech, I paced around him like a polar bear circling a hole in the ice. "There are a lot of things you can do for me," I said, pulling the empty chair halfway around the table and parking it with its back toward him. I put one foot up on its seat and leaned toward him. "You could give me your name, for a start. Better, you could give me your partner's name. But of course, what we really want to know is who sent you. I'm not stupid; I know this was a hired job. I also know you're thinking of your reputation and that's why you don't want to talk. But guess what? You don't have to give up your client to get your rep ruined. He just has to _think_ you gave him up. We'll figure out who hired you eventually, so do you want him to think you gave him up when you didn't, or do you want to get ahead of the game and help us out? One means high-security prison where your employer can still take out a hit on you, and the other means a lighter sentence in a safer facility with the man who's really responsible going down, too. But either option means you can't be a criminal for hire anymore, so your reputation as one is worthless, anyway. And guess which option has a possibility of you getting out again before you're an old man. Go on, guess."

He glanced at me from time to time while I talked and then stared at the wall. When I let the silence hang for a while, he finally said, "I'll consider everything you said... but I'd like to consult a lawyer before I agree to anything."

This happened all the time, but it was still frustrating. I pushed off the chair. "That's your privilege," I said. "I'll see that you get your phone call."

When I came out of the room, Ray and Fraser came out of the observation room beside it. I shrugged at them. "Couldn't get a damn thing out of him," I said sheepishly. To be honest, I hadn't been quite on my game because it was the first time Ray had observed me interrogating someone, and I was a little too nervous to show him my all-out mode that I had used while impersonating him.

"Eh, he's a pro," Ray said. "You can't expect a signed confession in the first ten minutes."

"He's right," said Fraser. "I thought you did very well."

I figured Fraser was just happy I hadn't threatened the guy with violence. We walked back to the bullpen together.

"Vecchio," called Detective Huey from his desk. "Uniforms just picked up your second guy. They're bringing him in."

Ray's face lifted. "Good news! Now we can play them against each other."

I nodded. "Maybe we'll get further with the other guy." I looked at my watch. "Hey, I know it's early," I said, lowering my voice, "but do you think you could take Franny to supper or something?"

He gave me a weird look.

"It's just that I don't know if she'll be ready to see the guy who grabbed her. And it's not like she can ID him—he was wearing a mask."

"Mm, that's true. I guess I can ask. "Hey, Francesca!"

She looked over from where she was looking through mug shots on her computer screen. "Yeah?"

"They're not letting me do much here; you wanna take a break? Get a bite to eat?"

She looked at him a little suspiciously. "You never offer to take me out," she said.

"Well, I'm offering now. We can celebrate catching those jerks who tried to kidnap you."

"I have a lot more mug shots to go through."

"I can take over," Fraser offered. "That is, if you don't mind my using your computer."

She brightened immediately. "Oh, not at all. Okay, I'll just get my purse."

I smiled at her as she passed. She was happy Fraser was going to use her computer. Happy he'd be touching her stuff. Even happy to have supper with her brother. I might as well be invisible, but I couldn't help smiling because she was happy.

"By the way," Fraser said to Ray, "I noticed Diefenbaker didn't come back with you."

"Oh, well, when we dropped Maria at the house, he insisted on staying," Ray answered. "I think he was making out that he needed to guard her, but I suspect the ulterior motive of getting snacks from the kids."

"Ah. That does sound like him."

* * *

 _More to come... lots and lots more, if the memories keep flooding back. How about some feedback from you? ~Ray K.  
_


	10. The Canary Sings

_Denouement of the current case... yes, I may have had to ask Fraser how to spell that. Don't worry, there's still a lot more to come.  
_

 _Still holding out for a Canadian reader. ;D_

* * *

Chapter Ten: The Canary Sings

Fraser found a mug shot he thought might be a match for our prisoner, and as soon as Ray came back from taking Franny to lunch and then dropping her at home, he told us he was sure it was a positive ID.

"It's the same nose," he said. "He looks a little different now, but that nose is just the same as it was in his juvie days. He's done well to have no convictions between then and now."

"So, he's smart," I said. "He's been building a career really carefully. He's probably gonna stay tight as a clam."

"Not necessarily," said Fraser. "Maybe he'd like a chance to start over. If so, this will likely be his last chance."

Ray nodded. "Play that angle and play it hard," he told me.

"And fast," said Welsh, coming over to us. "He's contacted a lawyer. I don't know how long it will take them to get here."

I ran my hands through my hair and tried to sigh out my nerves. "Okay," I said, stepping toward the interview room where the crook I now knew was named James Tanner sat waiting for his lawyer.

I did as Ray had advised, schooling Tanner on the subject of fresh starts and missed opportunities until his lawyer arrived. He hadn't said anything during that time, so I kept calling him variations of his name throughout: James, Jim, Jamie, Jimmy, even "Jimbo" at one point. After the lawyer sat down and advised his client that he didn't have to say anything (something Tanner was already well aware of), I went to the door. "I'm going to give you a chance to talk things over. Tell your lawyer what I told you and weigh your options. Just remember, it's not really you we're after. And it's not every day you get the chance to start over... Jim-Bob."

I pulled the door shut behind me, smirking to myself. Maybe I'd gone a little too far with that last one.

A few minutes later, I was up the hall questioning his partner.

"How long have you and James Tanner been kidnappers for hire?" I asked, getting up in the guy's face. It wasn't a nice face, so he was a little easier to yell at. Maybe that sounds shallow, but it's true. If someone looks like a thug, you feel more like treating him that way. If he looks clean, it makes you more likely to believe he might be clean in the police sense. Knowing the stereotypes you're susceptible to helps keep you from being fooled by them. This guy had stringy light brown hair and a short beard that didn't grow in very well on one side. Like I said, easy to yell at.

He wasn't any more eager to talk than his partner had been, but he didn't have as quiet an attitude. He would give me this look now and then, like he wasn't taking me seriously, or maybe like he was trying to rattle me. I got the feeling he'd been through this before, more than once. Still, when I said his partner's full name, I could tell it made some kind of impression. If we knew who Tanner was, it wouldn't take us long to figure out who he was.

"You don't seem like the kind of man to go down quietly for some guy you did a job for," I said, giving him a little more breathing room. I was mastering the art of playing good cop/bad cop without a wing man. Pressure on, pressure off. "Now, Tanner, he doesn't have a very long rap sheet. He's managed to stay out of trouble for quite a while now. How long is your rap sheet?" I moved closer again. "You got anything on there we can't help you with? Because Tanner's a smart guy, and he and his lawyer are in the next room down talking about cutting a deal right now." I was getting a little louder as I got closer. "The only way you come out ahead here is if you talk first. Because if he gives up your client, you can be sure as hell he's gonna give you up, too!" I poked his shoulder for emphasis.

"Don't touch me," he said in a whiny voice, like a kid talking to his brother in the backseat of a car.

"Don't talk unless you have something useful to say," I snapped. "What's it going to be? Are you going to get smart?" I backed off again. "Or are you going to be the sucker who gets handed to us on a silver platter by his junior partner?" I took on an almost pitying tone at the end.

"I think I'm going to be the guy who wants a lawyer present to ensure there isn't any police brutality." He gave me a defiant little smile.

I scoffed. "If they wanted someone to be brutal to you, they wouldn't have sent me, pal. Don't get me wrong, I've got no liking for you. You tried to kidnap my friend. But my partner is the brother of the woman you dragged across the street. What do you think he'll do to you if I can't get you to talk?" I went to the door. "You just think about that a while."

* * *

"Attempted kidnapping, assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, carrying a weapon without the proper permit, firing a deadly weapon in a residential building, G-T-A..." I pushed the list of offenses across the table toward James Tanner. "It's a pretty long list. We can't make it all go away, but we can get you a good break if you help us out."

Tanner looked at his lawyer and gave a little nod.

"My client is prepared to offer you information about the reasons for his actions if certain conditions are met," the lawyer said.

To my left, Welsh sat up a little straighter in his seat. "My detectives tend to understand the concept of the greater good," he said. "Kowalski here won't hold Mister Tanner for the assault on himself, and he's willing to testify that the gun was not fired with intent to harm."

"That's a start."

"If we can get a solid testimony from Tanner, with evidence to back it up, that someone put him up to all this, then they can take the lion's share of the blame for the attempted kidnapping. He'll still do time, but he can expect a much lighter sentence. We'd also like to hear how his partner fit into it."

There was another exchanged look and another nod.

"Okay, Mister Tanner," I said as I double-checked to make sure our conversation was successfully being recorded, "let's start with how you got the job. Who contacted you and how?"

Slowly at first, but then more and more confidently, our canary began to sing. I started to see that this was one criminal for hire who had never been too sure of his career choice. He seemed a little scared and very tired, and maybe even a little sorry. Not much like his teammate in the other room.

* * *

It was late when we finally left. We'd all missed dinner, so Ray suggested going to get some food together.

"I feel like Chinese. Any takers?"

"Sounds good to me," said Fraser.

"Me, too," I said.

"Perhaps we should collect Dief... he'll smell it on me and I'll never hear the end of it."

"Take him a doggie bag," said Ray.

"We could pick up Franny, too," I suggested. "I bet she'd like to come."

Ray gave me a look. Then he sighed. "Fine. Give her a call. If she wants to come, we'll go get her and the wolf, too."

"Thank you, Ray," said Fraser.

"Yeah, yeah."

I made the call.

"You're going for Chinese now? What time is it, ten?" Franny asked.

"Nine."

"Still. I already ate..."

"You could just come to hang out with us." I paused. Then, hating myself for it, I said, "Fraser wants us to pick up Dief anyway, so..."

"Oh, right. Of course. Well, sure, I'll come along."

I knew she'd go if she realized Fraser would be there. I just knew it. _Damn it._ "Okay, we'll see you soon."

"She's coming?" asked Ray.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, you two can cram in the back with the wolf."

I didn't know whether to complain or to thank him.

* * *

It surprised me how chill Franny was about riding with a wolf hovering over her. Maybe she liked Dief so much because he was Fraser's, but I still couldn't believe she didn't complain about his hair sticking to her clothes, or the possibility of his drooling on them.

I was grateful to Dief for his loyalty to me, and, feeling a little out of place what with Ray and Fraser being back in their dynamic duo and Franny following after Fraser so obviously smitten, I petted him quite a bit on the way to the restaurant. He looked at me and wagged his tail now and then before turning his attention back to the rear-view mirror. Supposedly, reading lips was how he followed the conversation going on in the front seat. I still don't know if I believe that, but he sure picks up on more than any dog I've ever known.

Ray parked and everyone got out. As I opened my door a little sullenly, I felt Dief's breath on my neck and then he was licking my ear. I cringed. "Ah... okay, okay. Thanks. Geez." I got out, rubbing my ear against my shoulder to get the saliva off it.

"Wait here," Fraser told Dief firmly.

I looked up at the restaurant sign. "Hey... isn't this the place...? Yeah! This is the Lee family's restaurant—the ones whose son we rescued from that tong guy..." I stopped myself suddenly and tried to backtrack. "I... I mean that _you_ rescued."

Ray raised his eyebrows. "Kid really did his homework, huh?"

Fraser nodded. "He was very thorough. Sometimes it was as if you never left."

"No kidding. You know, I'm starting to think Ma likes him better than me."

I snorted. "Not a chance." I almost wished it were true, but I knew it wasn't.

While the rest of us ate traditional Chinese food, Franny had a pot of tea and nibbled at some fried doughnuts. Mr. Lee himself served us, showing no end of respect and gratitude toward Ray and Fraser. He even sent someone outside with a plate of chicken for Dief. You never saw a wolf smacking away with such a doggish grin on his long, white face.

I got treated really well, too—it seemed that any friend of Fraser's was going to get the best from these people. And let me tell you, it was really good food.

I went out of my way to involve Franny in the conversation. I told her about interrogating James Tanner and his partner, Andy Tate. Tanner had named the man who arranged the job, and Ray had recognized the name as belonging to an important associate of one of the mob kingpins he had dealt with during his time undercover.

"We should get an arraignment soon, and then we can take the guy down," I told her.

"Do you think he'll try again? You know, hire another kidnapping team?" she asked.

"I doubt it. I don't think he'll have time before we get him in custody, and he probably won't try the same thing again."

"But he's rich... he'll be able to bail himself out."

"Unless we can get the judge to refuse to set bail. But we'll keep an eye on him. And you. I promise."

She looked down, smiling a little.

I realized that Ray and Fraser had fallen silent. Was Ray staring at me again? Probably not, but I couldn't help feeling like he was.

"I just don't like having to wonder..." Franny said quietly. "I used to feel a lot safer. You don't realize how vulnerable you are until someone..."

"I know." I kind of wanted to reach for her hand, but not in front of the guys. "Have you thought about taking a defense class?" I asked.

She nodded. "They teach them at the academy. I was thinking I should take one there. Just hadn't gotten around to it."

"That's a good idea," Ray put in. "It would make me feel better."

"More importantly, it would make _me_ feel better," Franny muttered.

"I think we would all feel better knowing you were confident defending yourself," Fraser said.

She looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah. I'll sign up for the next one they start."

"In the meantime," said Ray, "if someone ever tries to grab you again, you make yourself a dead weight and scream your head off, okay?"

"Well, there's not much here to turn into 'dead weight,' but I'll do my best."

I smiled. I wanted to say something smart to that, but I knew if I got it wrong I'd be in huge trouble, so I kept my mouth shut. I was getting a tiny bit better about that... thinking before talking, I mean.

* * *

 _More soon. I've posted ten chapters. It would be nice to have a few lines of feedback in return. ~Ray K._


	11. Movin' Out

_This one's longish. I hope you enjoy it.  
_

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Movin' Out

This time Ray drove back to the precinct first, and I offered to take Fraser on to the consulate.

Franny got out of the car to move to the front seat, and she gave Fraser a hug. "See you tomorrow, Fraze."

"Good night, Francesca," Fraser answered, managing to sound upbeat and polite in spite of the slightly flustered expression on his face.

"Night, Ray," she called to me as she went back to the Riviera.

"Good night," I answered, making eye contact with her, but not at all sure that I was getting my feelings across to her. I'm pretty good with nonverbal communication, but a lot of people don't pick up on that stuff, and sometimes it's hard to tell if they're getting the message.

When Fraser and I got into my car, he said, "You seem a little troubled about something, Ray."

I sighed. "A little, I guess."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really. What about you? You want to tell me what's been eating you lately?"

"Ah. I'm not sure if I should say."

I looked over at him. I thought he looked like he wanted to spill his guts. "You can trust me to keep quiet. What is it?"

He hesitated just a moment longer. "There's something Ray isn't telling me, and I fear it may be serious."

"Yeah?"

"Then again, it could be nothing..."

"What makes you think so?"

"For one thing—have you noticed how he's been going off by himself a lot lately, and coming back with no explanation of where he's been?"

I fought to keep my expression neutral. Fraser had noticed Ray's discreet smoke breaks, even though I'd tried to cover for him whenever I could. "Maybe he's just going to the john," I suggested.

"Unless he's developed a bladder infection, I highly doubt it. And I think he would tell me about that. He's not one to hide his infirmities. In fact, though I may be speaking out of turn, I think he tends to capitalize on them."

That was one way Ray Vecchio and I were not much alike. Ray liked to whine to anyone who would listen about whatever ache or pain he had, real or imaginary. I'd heard he once fabricated a gunshot wound in an attempt to collect disability pay. Me, on the other hand, I don't like people asking me how I am all the time, acting like I can't do my job because of a few cuts and bruises. Over the last day or so, some really colorful bruises had shown up from my scuffle with Tanner, but I hadn't said a word about them to anyone other than Welsh, and I only told him because he asked me directly what kind of damage the guy had done to me.

It was only when I was married that I wanted any special treatment, and even then I just wanted Stella to stay with me. Not to fuss over me or wait on me hand and foot (where the heck does that saying come from anyway? It's kinda weird), but just to be with me. That would make up for whatever was hurting me or making me sick. She saw it as me being extra clingy when I was sick. Am I really misunderstood, or do I really have dependency issues? I don't know. But anyway.

"Okay, so he's probably not sick," I said.

"Then, there's the smell."

"Smell?" I said, lamely stalling for time. This wasn't good.

"Yes. It smells like tobacco and... something sweet. Like a flavored liqueur or something. It may be a foreign cigarette with which I'm unfamiliar."

Damn his nose. How the hell could he tell all that stuff apart? "Foreign cigarettes? What does that mean?" I asked, again lamely stalling.

"My working theory is that he has been meeting a foreigner. It might be a lady friend to whom he's not ready to introduce me. Then again, it might have something to do with his undercover work, and that's what really worries me."

I felt a little relieved that Fraser hadn't jumped to the conclusion that Ray was smoking, but at the same time, he seemed to be more concerned than necessary. I had to do something to make him feel better. "Look, whatever it is, I'm sure you don't need to worry about it. The undercover stuff is done. This mob guy sending people after Franny—that's over now. And if it is a woman... he'll get around to it. He's your partner. When you need to know, he'll tell you, right?"

Fraser sighed quietly. "You're right," he said in a resigned tone. "I shouldn't be so suspicious. He is, after all, not only my partner, but my friend. He's never let me down before."

"Right."

"Well, there was that one time... but it's hardly worth mentioning."

I smirked. "Just let him have his privacy, and maybe... eventually... he'll let you in on it. And maybe it'll just be something simple and you'll laugh over it."

"Perhaps so."

I pulled the car up in front of the consulate.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's been bothering you?" Fraser asked.

"Mm... not right now. It's late."

"Well, I do have some news that may cheer you up."

"Oh, yeah?"

He nodded. "I've decided to take the apartment across from yours."

It took a minute to sink in. I hadn't expected him to decide so soon, and I'd kind of been preparing myself for him to pick someplace else. "Hey, that's great," I said, a slow smile coming over my face.

"I'm glad you think so. I'll move in in a couple of days." He got Dief out of the car. "See you tomorrow... neighbor."

My smile turned into a grin. "Yeah, see you."

[Fraser says the most likely explanation for the saying "wait on hand and foot" is that it has to do with privileged people having handmaids and footmen. I would speculate about why they're called "handmaids and footmen," but I bet he would know that too, and if I let him explain stuff like that too often, it gets really annoying.]

* * *

I was more than happy to help Fraser move his belongings into his new place, but I was kind of bothered by how few he had. Apparently, he hadn't acquired much since his old place burned. Living at the consulate, he'd had adequate furniture to use, so the only things he had to take with him were his clothes, the travel pack and bedroll he'd had with him in Canada, Dief's food and water bowls, and some miscellaneous personal items. He mentioned that he'd lost a couple of his dad's diaries in the fire, and I could tell that made him really sad, though he didn't make a big deal out of it.

"You're going to need some stuff for your new space," I said, instead of what I was thinking: "You're planning to live like this?!" The apartment came with the use of a stove, refrigerator and bathroom fixtures, and half the space was carpeted, but it still echoed like crazy, especially in the bedroom and living room. "I can take you to some thrift stores. That's where I got most of my furniture."

"I would appreciate that," he said. He sounded truly grateful, and kind of humble. The guy is so genuine sometimes, it's downright uncomfortable.

Dief gave me a look and I smiled at him. It was like he was saying, "What would he do without us?" _Seriously, Dief._ I was willing to give him some credit for getting Fraser to move into my building. If he came around begging for treats like Fraser predicted, I'd probably cave without a struggle.

"I guess a bed's the first thing... and a dresser. You wanna go now?"

"Will the thrift stores still be open?"

I checked my watch. We had brought everything over in one trip after a quick supper. It was only seven-thirty. "Oh, yeah. There are a few thrift store chains that stay open almost as long as the department stores. If we leave now, we might be able to hit a couple."

"All right." Fraser looked at Dief. "Wait here."

Dief sat on the floor with a grumble.

"Well, I know it's not much now, but that's exactly why we're going to look at furniture."

"Hmph."

I had to press my lips together hard to keep from laughing. Once I got it under control, I stepped forward so Dief would focus on me. "You wanna wait in my apartment? You can sleep on the couch if you want."

He got up and ran to the door.

"That's really not necessary, Ray," Fraser said.

"Eh, no big deal. It's his first day at the new place... you don't wanna leave him all alone with no creature comforts." I looked down at Dief. "Just this once, okay?"

Behind me, I heard Fraser mutter, "Oh, dear" softly.

"What?" I asked, opening the door.

"I just think you're setting yourself up for disappointment. Diefenbaker doesn't really comprehend one-time offers."

"Eh, we'll figure it out." I went across the hall and opened my door. "There you go, buddy. We'll be back soon."

Dief scampered inside and started sniffing around. Fraser went in long enough to get his attention and tell him to stay. Then we headed out.

* * *

"I finally talked to Franny about Paul," I told Fraser on our way to the first place. "She said she didn't know if he'd like the idea or not, but she gave me his contact info. I'll try calling him tomorrow."

"Keep me informed."

"You got it."

I wished I had been able to have a real private conversation with Franny, but I'd had to ask her while Ray was out for a smoke that morning. Talking about Paul was all we'd had time for. I wondered if I'd ever get another shot at asking her on a date, let alone actually going on one.

We looked at a lot of furniture that evening. Fraser isn't picky and he's so trusting that no one would sell him a piece of junk that if I hadn't been with him, he probably would have ended up with something full of bedbugs and something that fell apart the next day and something that was just god-awful in appearance. Instead, we ended up strapping bed rails (real wooden ones) to the roof of my car and making arrangements to have a sofa and easy chair delivered over the weekend.

"A mattress I would not get second-hand," I told Fraser firmly. "I don't care what the story is—you have to get a mattress brand new. But that doesn't mean you have to pay full price. There's a discount place I know; I can show you tomorrow if you want. They get overstock and 'slightly imperfect' models and stuff like that. A lot of times they get mattresses that were display models in other stores. People have sat on them, but no one's slept on them. That's a key discrepancy."

Fraser took all this in very seriously, listening with as much attention as he would if I were outlining a case for him. When I finished, he nodded. "After your shift, then?"

"Sure. Oh, um... I wanna call Paul Vecchio at lunchtime, so could you maybe take Ray someplace away from the station?"

"I'll do my best."

"Okay, thanks." Whenever Fraser said he would do his best, that was the same as someone else saying, "Consider it done." It's when he says something absolute like "We _will_ get it done" that I really worry about whether he understands how the world works. For someone who always keeps his word, he sure gives it freely on some really heavy promises.

Dief was really interested in the new bed rails. Over all, he seemed to approve of them, especially when Fraser told him that eventually, they would be his bed.

"We should get a small rug or something for Diefenbaker," Fraser said as we started setting up the rails in the bedroom. "There was a nice rug at the consulate on which he was fond of sleeping. For now, I suppose the carpeting is soft enough."

"What happened to roughing it?" I teased.

"Well, you know Dief. Unless we're actually in the wilderness, he acts as if he's always been a city snicker."

I blinked. "You mean a city slicker?"

He blinked. "Isn't that what I said?"

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Oh. Well, it's what I meant."

When the last bolt was tightened, Fraser packed up the tools into a neat little toolbox and set it aside. "I need to remember to return that," he said.

"Seriously, man? Those aren't even your tools?" I said, looking up from where I was sprawled on the floor by the bed frame, leaning back on my palms.

"Why, no. They belong to a gentleman who lived in my building... the one that burned. He's relocated now, but we've kept in touch. He's now the handyman for one of the other places I considered."

"No kiddin'. So, I guess he has lots of tools."

"Indeed." He offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet.

"So, you want some dessert?" I asked.

Dief appeared at my side like a furry little magician.

"Well..." Fraser looked around at the bare walls and led the way into the empty living room. It seemed like he didn't want to leave his new space now that he was in it.

"We can have it here," I said. "I, um... took the liberty of putting some ice cream in your freezer."

He looked at me in surprise. "When did you get a chance to do that?"

"Eh, the landlady let me in. Turnabout's fair play." I winked.

With the tiny, reserved Mountie version of a laugh, Fraser went to the freezer and pulled out the box. "Moose tracks?"

I grinned. "I had to."

He set the box on the counter, preparing to open it, and then frowned. "Oh... I don't have any dishes."

"Check the cupboard." I pointed.

He opened the cupboard and found the box of plastic spoons I had put there earlier. "I suppose you've hidden bowls somewhere?"

I shook my head. "Bowls are overrated." I walked over and opened the ice cream while he opened the box of spoons. "I would normally bring a guy a bottle of wine when he gets a new place, but... I know you don't drink."

He was actually smiling now. A real one. I gave myself ten points for that. Not that I keep an actual running score of these things, but you have to understand... When Fraser's upset, his face is a slightly less-wide mouth, furrowed brow, and slight sheen to the eyes. When he's happy, his face is a slightly wider mouth, smooth brow and wide eyes. When he's really, really happy, he actually smiles. He was actually smiling. Ten points.

"Thank you, Ray."

"Aw, stop. You wanna thank me? Give me a spoon."

We sat against the wall on the edge of the carpet where the living area turned into the kitchen area. Dief sat in front of us, all but drooling. Now and then I spooned a little morsel out and let it drop onto the linoleum so he could lick it up. I was careful not to get any chocolate in what I gave him.

I looked at Fraser digging out a bit of fudge and I thought he looked like a kid on his birthday or something. "Have you ever done this before?" I asked him.

He gave me that fish out of water look. "This?"

"Eating ice cream out of the box with someone—no bowls, just spoons."

He thought a short moment. "No."

It made me happy and sad at the same time. I loaded up my spoon and held it out. "Well, here's to your first spontaneous, late-night, screw-it-let's-have-ice-cream party."

He copied my gesture and I quickly pulled my spoon back. "You don't actually clink when you toast with spoons. That's gross," I said.

He looked down at the box, brow furrowed. "But... we've been eating out of the same—"

"That's different," I snapped.

"That doesn't make any sense, Ray."

I put my spoon in my mouth and concentrated on the sweet chocolate and vanilla with a lump of peanut butter hidden inside. Fraser got the hint and didn't try to argue anymore.

"Hey," I said when my mouth was empty again, "You wanna sleep on my sofa until you get a mattress?"

"I'll be fine," he said. "The bedroll on carpet is really quite adequate."

"Okay, if you're sure."

Another few minutes and we had slowed to a halt. There was a pool of melted ice cream around the lump left in the middle.

"You want any more?" Fraser asked.

I shook my head. "I'm stuffed." You've heard of "weak with hunger"? I was weak with fullness. Felt like I couldn't move.

Fraser put the lid on the box, got up and put it into the freezer. Then he came back and helped me up again.

"Thanks for the ice cream," he said, walking to the door with me.

"Yeah, no problem."

"And for helping me out."

"Hey, what are friends and neighbors for?"

"Right." He opened the door and I went across the hall, fishing my keys out.

I stepped into my apartment and looked back at him. Dief was peeking out between his legs, making me chuckle. "Good night, guys."

"Good night, Ray."

I waited a second, but he seemed to be waiting for me, so I closed my door first. _That was weird,_ I thought. Neither of us had to make sure the other got safely shut inside their apartment—this was a good neighborhood and we were both capable officers of the law. But I felt kind of responsible for him, since he had just moved into my building, and all I could figure was that he felt like showing me every courtesy because I'd helped him out and because it was me leaving his place to go home and not the other way around. Still... I shook my head. It was a good weird, I guess.

* * *

 _I don't want anyone yelling "slash!" That's not what's going on here. K? Thanks. But I would like to hear from you, haha. ~RayK  
_


	12. Call Paul

_Thanks for the new comment, Nutmeg9cat! Glad you're enjoying it.  
_

 _In this chapter I let Fraser take over the story-telling for a while, but it still starts with me. ~Ray K._

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Call Paul

We had a new case to work on Thursday morning, and it was the kind that resembled an older, unsolved crime. So, I was going through cold case notes in an attempt to find something that would help us in the new investigation. Some cops really find that kind of thing interesting, but to me it's usually pretty boring. I was glad when Fraser came in at lunchtime.

"Coming with us, Ray?" Ray asked me as he was getting ready to go get lunch with Fraser.

"No, I don't think so today," I said, trying to sound natural. "I've still got a lot to go through here, so I think I'll just get a sandwich and work through lunch."

I think he thought that was a little weird, but not enough to ask questions. All he said was, "Well, don't work too hard."

I nodded and waved them off.

Francesca had guessed what I was up to. She brought a cappuccino over to me and said, "He's gonna expect you to have made some progress when he gets back. You want me to work on that cold case stuff while you're on the phone?"

I smiled at her. "I'd really appreciate it. Here, I've got this up on my computer already; you sit here and I'll call from your work station."

"Okay."

We quickly swapped places and I got out my address book to make the call.

After a couple of rings, a female voice said, "Thank you for calling Vecchio fine apparel. My name is Alyssa. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to Paul Vecchio, please."

"Mister Vecchio is quite busy, but I can take a message for you."

"It's important," I said. "It's about his brother, Ray."

"One moment, please."

I heard some annoying jazz music. I leaned back in my chair, letting the phone hang down away from my mouth.

I caught Franny's eye. She raised her eyebrows at me like, "Well?"

"Hold," I said.

"Hm."

It was definitely more than "one moment" before I heard a man's voice on the line.

"Paul Vecchio speaking."

Other than being a tiny bit higher pitched, it sounded a lot like Ray's voice. "Hello, Paul," I said.

Franny looked up at me and I winked at her.

"I work with your brother. I'm Detective Kowalski."

"Yes?"

I realized that I was probably worrying him with some idea that something had happened to his brother. After all, that was what happened the last time his family contacted him. I tried to explain myself quickly. "I've gotten to know your family pretty well, and they've told me it's been a long time since you've been to Chicago. Years."

There was a little pause before he said, "Yes... it has been a while. What is this about?"

"Your brother's birthday in September. I thought it would be a nice surprise if you came out for it. We'd throw him a party and you could have the chance to catch up."

"September... just how much time do you need to plan this party?"

"We just wanted to give you plenty of notice because of how busy you are."

"I see... Yes, I am very busy. I'm rarely able to get away from the business for more than a day at a time. It's not very practical..."

"Please think about it. I think it would mean the world to your family." I had a weird feeling as I was talking to him, as if this were _my_ long-lost brother I was trying to persuade to come home.

"September..." I heard paper rustling. "What day is it again?"

"The twenty-first." He didn't have his brother's birthday memorized. Weird.

"Hm. I might be able to work something out. What number can I reach you at?"

I gave him my mobile number, knowing that other detectives might answer the phone at my desk if I wasn't there, and that I sometimes forgot to check my answering machine at home. "Please call me back, even if you can't come," I said. "I'll need to know whether or not we can count on you."

"...All right. I'll try to let you know."

"Thanks. I won't take up any more of your time." He said something in answer and I hung up.

"So," said Franny, "I'm guessing he didn't say he'd come."

"He didn't say no," I said, getting up and walking over to her.

"Hm. He didn't say no to ma's Christmas plans two years ago, either, but did he come?" she shook her head.

"Guess I should pester him if he doesn't get back to me, huh?"

"Yeah, I'd say if you haven't heard back from him by the end of June, try him again."

"'Kay, I will. You find anything here?" I gestured to the computer screen.

"I don't think so. They didn't have a more detailed description of the murder weapon. Just said it was probably some sort of serrated knife. The fingerprints they found were either eliminated or unidentified. They don't match any in our case."

I nodded. "Thanks. You've come a long way in dealing with this stuff," I told her. "I know I give you a hard time, but you're really doing well."

I was surprised when she looked a little flustered, tucking her hair behind one ear. "Oh... well, it would be kind of sad if I hadn't started to pick it up by now," she said. Then she scurried off.

I told myself it was too much to hope that it was nervousness caused by attraction. I just caught her off guard. Still, I had to give myself credit for managing to compliment her without accidentally turning it into a dig.

* * *

Fraser and I found him some sheets and a mattress at the discount store that evening. A guy from the store helped me tie the mattress to the roof of my car and we drove back to the apartment with it.

"You're gonna sleep good tonight, Fraser," I said as we dropped the mattress on the bed frame. It had been tiring carrying the thing up two flights of stairs.

"Well, Ray."

"Well, what?"

"I'll sleep well."

"That's what I said."

"You said 'good.'"

"It means the same thing."

"That's a common misconception. The difference..."

"Fraser. You knew what I meant, so just let it go, huh?"

"Very well."

"Very good." I smirked at his slightly bewildered expression.

He opened the new sheets and we spread them out together. I pretended to be interested while he went on some discourse about boxing in corners and bouncing quarters to see that the bed had been made properly. Which he actually demonstrated.

"Impressive," I said dryly.

"It's really not difficult, once you know how."

As he often did, he had missed the sarcasm. It was a little sad, but endearing. "Well, it looks a little less empty in here now," I said. "Your couch and chair get here Saturday, right? I'll keep an eye out for a dresser for you."

"I thought I might look for one when I've completed my duties tomorrow. If you don't need my help, that is."

"We haven't had any big breaks in the case yet, so that'll probably work out fine."

"Were you able to speak to Paul Vecchio today?"

"Oh, yeah. He... he said he might be able to come. Didn't sound super interested, though. It kind of bugs me."

"Well, it isn't our place to pry."

"I guess not." But I felt like it was my place. I was almost part of the Vecchio family. I felt like it was me he'd been ignoring for years. If he had visited while Ray was undercover, would he even have noticed that someone had replaced his brother?

"Care to help me finish that ice cream?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No thanks. Do yourself a favor and get some groceries in here while you're out tomorrow, okay?"

"I intend to."

"Good." I gave Dief a pat on my way to the door.

The wolf sniffed my hand eagerly and then looked sullen.

"Sorry, I got nothin' for ya," I told him.

"There's no need to apologize," Fraser said with a hint of displeasure that I knew was directed at Dief. "He certainly doesn't need anything right now."

* * *

 _It's time to let Fraser take over and write a bit. He'll recap some of what has already happened from his point of view. But don't worry—I told him to be brief. ;)_

* * *

When I first met Ray Kowalski, my focus was entirely self-centered. It wasn't until later that I realized how difficult a transition it must have been for him to go from being Stanly Raymond Kowalski to being Ray Vecchio. Reading over what he wrote about the experience has been another eye-opener. The tension between the two Rays, as well as that between Kowalski and Francesca, was a bit lost on me, I confess. What I did notice was, apparently, a smaller, less significant version of what was really going on. I attribute my failure to grasp the situation to inexperience in these types of interpersonal relationships.

Ray says I'm not being brief enough. I'll try to write more succinctly.

When Ray Vecchio returned from his stint undercover, I confess that I was once again rather self-centered. At first, I thought the three of us together would be nothing but positive. Then, when things became awkward in some areas, I worried more about where my loyalties should lie and what I could do to protect my favored status quo than I did about how my friends were feeling or how I could help them.

The first time we went to the Vecchio house after Ray Kowalski and I returned from the Yukon, I ended up riding with Ray Vecchio.

Ray suggests I use "RayK" and "RayV" to distinguish between the two and save some time. I'll try it.

As I was saying, in the car with RayV, it felt a bit like old times. I don't remember what we talked about first, but we soon got to talking about my misadventures with RayK in the Yukon. Apparently, RayV had heard conflicting stories about how we had gotten from the plane to the ground, how many mountains we had climbed, how many crevasses we had fallen down, etc. He seemed quite incredulous as I sussed out the true version for him.

He kept saying things like "Get outta here!" and "You're kidding me."

"You don't believe me?" I asked him.

"Naw, I believe you... but if you were anyone else, I'd never believe you. So, after all that," he said, parking the Riviera in front of his house, "how come you and Kowalski took off into the great unknown? That was so weird... I mean, I guess it's not so oddball for you, but Kowalski's a city guy, right?"

"Having a brush with death will often cause people to reconsider how they've lived their lives, Ray. In Ray Kowalski's case, he realized that his biggest regret was never having gone on a real adventure."

RayV gave me one of his strong expressions that I nevertheless had difficulty reading. "All that crazy junk you went through, and he still felt like he hadn't had an adventure? That is so stupid..."

"Well, there are adventures, and then there are... quests."

"And he decided on this old dead explorer dude?"

"I might have had some influence there," I admitted. I saw RayK pull up and park, but he didn't get out of his car right away. "I told him the story of Franklin one night... I wasn't even sure he had heard it because by the time I was done, he had fallen asleep..."

"Oh, gee, that's so surprising, Benny. It sounds like such a fascinating story."

I was fairly sure he was being insincere in his comments, but I chose to ignore that. "When all was said and done, we agreed to go search for him together."

"Just like that?"

"We got supplies together first and told some people where we were going..."

"Oh, sure. I'm going into the vast, uncharted North to find the grave of some guy who's been missing for over a hundred years. Don't wait up. If I'm not back in six months, send a snowmobile after me..."

"We were amply prepared." I saw RayK get Diefenbaker out of his car and go into the house with a glance in our direction. "It was Ray who eventually decided we should give up the quest. I think it disappointed him more than he lets on, but the harsh conditions were wearing on him."

"I'll bet. I hate winter camping. In America, you wait until the end of summer when the bugs aren't too bad but there's, you know, no _frost_ on the ground in the morning, and _that_ is when you go camping."

I knew very well that Ray hadn't been on a real camping trip in his life, unless you counted the time we were stranded in the wilderness together. "Shouldn't we go inside?" I asked.

"Eh... yeah, I guess."

We went inside and received a warm welcome from RayV's family. Dinner was the usual noisy affair typical of that household, full of joking and arguing and everything in between.

Friction arose between RayV and Francesca when he invited me to go bowling with him. Francesca seemed set on going with us, and I didn't see any reason why she shouldn't, but then RayV took me aside to explain his reasoning away from the ears of the impressionable children.

"Fraser, how many Chicago bowling alleys have you been to?"

I thought back over my years spent in the city. "One, I believe."

"Uh-huh, and did you have a pretty girl with you at the time?"

"No."

"So, you wouldn't have observed this, but guys in places like that tend to be really... how should I say this? Real scumbags when it comes to pretty young things like my sister. We wouldn't want to expose her to a crowd like that, right?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Right. So, we understand each other?"

"Yes."

"Good." He led the way back to the dining room.

I was preoccupied after that, trying to understand why bowling alleys in particular should become so corrupt, and whether there might be anything I could do about it. Francesca seemed very disappointed not to be welcome to come with us.

My thoughts were interrupted by the proposal of a toast by Mrs. Vecchio. "Safe work and good health for our boys."

I raised my glass with the others as RayV complained about being referred to as a boy. I always admired how Mrs. Vecchio cherished her children and grandchildren. I smiled at my companion as his wine glass touched my water glass, and then I made sure to connect with Francesca's as well.

I noticed that RayV seemed to freeze after the toast, and saw that he was looking down the table at his mother, who had affectionately taken RayK's wrist. I looked back at RayV.

"He's really part of the family, huh?" RayV said, looking back down at his plate.

"He seems to be. I'm sure that it wasn't at all like having you here, but it was like having another family member. Maybe a long-lost relative."

"Hm."

"They're all fond of him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Sounds like he made a better Ray Vecchio than I do."

"Oh, Ray. Your family is all very fond of you, too. You must know that."

"Sure. But he got integrated in a real short time. I was born into this."

I frowned. "Are you jealous, Ray?"

"What? No. Don't be silly."

Francesca had probably heard some of our conversation, but she didn't comment on it. I had observed that she usually showed her affection for her brother in subtle, understated ways.

* * *

 _We'll have more for you soon. Got anything for us? ~Ray K. and B. Fraser  
_


	13. Suspicion And Apprehension

_Benton Fraser, RCMP. Continuation of previous narrative. (Ray says I don't need to be so formal. My apologies.)  
_

 _(Ray wants to mention that he is excited to see we finally have a reader in the UK, though still no one in Canada yet.)_

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Suspicions And Apprehension

After dinner, I helped gather up the dishes, scraping the scraps onto one plate for Diefenbaker to enjoy. I handed a stack of dishes to RayK and he carried them off to the kitchen.

Tony and Maria started getting the younger children ready for bed, starting with the baby and then the younger girl, Gina, then "Little Tony" as he was called. He didn't share his father's middle name, and therefore did not get the title of "Junior."

RayV, Francesca and I remained in the dining room, talking of this and that. Mrs. Vecchio brought out a pot of coffee.

"Is Ray still in the kitchen?" I asked her.

"I think he went outside," she answered. "Might have gone home." She looked at her son. "You should do more to make him feel welcome, Raimondo."

"Ma," Ray complained. "I got him over here. What more do you want?"

"Would you rather have cappuccino, Fraze?" Francesca asked me.

"No, don't go to any trouble," I told her.

"It's no trouble."

"Well... if you have any, I am partial to a cup of tea."

She jumped up. "We've got some tea someplace, right ma? Lemme go see."

Ray shook his head as the women retreated to the kitchen. "You oughtta do something about her, Benny."

I tilted my head to one side. "Such as?"

"Oh, come on... she's always had this thing for you, and she's never gonna let it go as long as you keep comin' around and never spell it out for her."

"Spell what out, Ray?"

He looked at me almost angrily. "Do you like her?"

"Of course, I do. I've established that."

"Do you want to go out with her?" he asked, spacing his words as if I might have trouble understanding him.

I thought about it a while. In the long run, I doubted Francesca and I would make a good couple. She might be happy enough for a while, but I worried that I had too much of my father in me. I'd probably end up going on some more long manhunts and possibly "adventures" in places that she would find intolerable. I wouldn't be able to take her with me, and she would end up alone for months at a time. It wouldn't be fair to her.

"I don't think we'd be well-suited," I said at last.

"Then _tell her that._ "

I wasn't convinced that such a clear declaration was necessary, considering I felt I had made myself fairly clear before RayK and I went to Canada, but before I could say any more on the subject, Francesca returned with a steaming teacup and saucer.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want milk," she said, setting the cup in front of me. "I just put the bag in, so let it steep a little."

"This is fine, thank you kindly," I told her.

Ray sighed for some reason. "I'm gonna get some air," he said.

Francesca smiled at me as her brother left the room. She took a sip of her coffee.

I picked up the teabag's string and started bobbing the bag around.

"We're all really glad you ended up coming back," she said.

"Thank you. It seemed like the best option for now."

"So, you think you'll go back to Canada eventually?"

"Yes. But perhaps not for some time."

"Did you meet anyone interesting while you were up there?"

"Everyone we met was interesting."

"How did Ray do with the Canadian culture?"

"Not bad. I think he had the most trouble when we stopped at an Inuit village, but by the time we moved on, he had become a favorite."

"I guess he's an okay guy when you get to know him."

"Definitely. He has a good heart."

"Not so obvious when he's on duty."

"I think that's just part of the façade he's built for himself."

"Is it part of his 'façade' to make fun of everything I say?" she asked, scowling a little.

"Oh, that's probably just teasing."

"I don't think so. He has to correct every little thing, even when he knows what I meant."

"I suppose that could be irritating."

"I'll say."

I took the teabag out of my cup and put it at the edge of my saucer. "I think we probably all have a habit or two that annoy those close to us. It's important to remember that when it comes to the big things, things like loyalty, honesty and kindness, our friends always come through for us. And then those little, irritating things don't seem as bad."

"I dunno about that. I mean, I hear what you're saying, but I don't think someone should get a free pass just because they've done some good stuff. Like, for instance, say I were to save my brother from getting hit by a car. Would that give me license to be rude to him the rest of my life?"

"Mm... no."

"I mean, he's my brother— _that's_ what gives me license to be rude to him the rest of my life, am I right?" she laughed. "But you know what I mean."

"Yes, I s'pose so." I sipped my tea. It tasted a little off, as if it had had a very long shelf life before making it to my cup. But it was still drinkable, and there was no point in complaining.

A few minutes later, RayK came in chewing a stick of gum and offered to drive me back to the consulate. Somehow, Francesca ended up throwing my teabag at him. I guess he really did irritate her. But he said he'd been teasing her, which was what I had thought all along.

"We thought you had left already," I said, to change the subject.

He explained that he had been volunteered to read to one of the kids. We talked a little more, but the sibling-like tension didn't seem likely to lift, so I finished off my tea and thanked Francesca for it as I got up to go.

"Come again anytime, Fraze," she said. Then she added, "And I guess you can bring this lunk along."

"Don't put yourself out," Ray said dryly.

When we got into his car, Ray put me on the spot a bit, asking about Francesca's feelings toward him. I wondered if he had a romantic attraction to her, or if he was merely concerned that his abrasive attitude toward her was taking a toll. I didn't ask; it wasn't my business.

I was a little surprised when he suggested arranging something for RayV's birthday. I had been concerned that the two Rays were not getting along so well, but at the least it seemed that this one was making an effort. I hoped his idea would work out.

We discussed my need to find a new living space and then he dropped me off at the consulate. I thought about what he had said last, about Chicago being reality to him, while Canada was reality to me. I didn't take to that view of things. Perhaps he hadn't meant it this way, but it seemed that if Chicago posed as a dream-world to me, then that would mean that the things which took place there were immaterial at best, and meaningless at worst. That was certainly not true for me. Above all, it was the people and the time spent with them that made up my reality, wherever I had met them or wherever they had come from. True, I was most in my element on Canadian soil, but my friends are my reality.

Coming to that conclusion surprised me a little. I'd had childhood friends, some of them very good ones, but once we had gone our separate ways, I had never thought that I could have such strong personal attachments again. Canada would always be my home, but... in a way, I was home when I had my friends around me. It was a comforting thought.

* * *

When RayK and I got supper together on Friday, he expressed his opinion that RayV had lied about his reasons for not wanting Francesca to accompany us to the bowling alley the following evening. I thought he must be wrong, but I also thought something was bothering him. He wouldn't say what it was.

Our conversation went elsewhere, and he brought up RayV's birthday again. That reminded me that my old partner had been acting a little bit strange of late. At first, I attributed his short disappearances to the various aspects of police work, but then I began to wonder if he were trying to avoid me for some reason. Then I started to notice an unusual aroma on him whenever he returned from an unexplained absence. I wasn't ready to mention my suspicions, though, and I was grateful when my companion didn't press me to.

The next morning, I went to tour the apartment across from RayK's. It had adequate space, and the plumbing and electrical system seemed in much better working order than they had been in my first Chicago apartment. The rent was not as low as I'd been paying before, but it was still reasonable.

After looking the place over, Diefenbaker and I spent a little time across the hall with Ray. We discussed the pros and cons of the location, and in the course of the discussion, I realized that Ray wanted very much for me to live there. It was a moment when, if my father's ghost had not already moved on, he would definitely have had something to say.

 _"Well, what did you expect?"_ I could almost hear him in my head. _"You decide that home is where your friends are, and now you're surprised that your friend wants you around, too? This is what happens when you let feelings dictate your actions, son. You become illogical. Vulnerable to manipulation."_

"I'm sorry, Ray," I said, pushing my father's imagined comments away. "I didn't know it was so important to you."

"Well, I don't want you to live here if you won't like it. So, go check out your other options," he said. I thought it sounded a little forced.

"All right," I said.

He didn't say anything else, and I decided to take my leave. He offered me lunch, but I didn't think it was a good idea to stay. I had the feeling that we would just end up saying all the same things over again, at a more agitated level, and it might turn into an argument.

 _"Remember,"_ my father's imagined voice said as I walked through the building, _"familiarity breeds contempt. You see a good deal of this guy during the day. What kind of trouble will it foster if you're living in the same building with him, too?"_

I shook my head in frustration. _You're not here,_ I thought. _And if you were here, I would tell you that you shouldn't be... because familiarity breeds contempt._

* * *

I returned to the consulate after looking at two other apartments. Constable Turnbull (who, incidentally, had actually _not_ embarked on a political career as the canon's conclusion suggested) informed me that I'd had two phone calls while I was out, both from Francesca Vecchio.

"She said to call her back at the police station," he said, avoiding my gaze.

That seemed odd to me. Turnbull normally looked up to me with admiration, and I couldn't think of anything I had done to discourage that of late. Perhaps he felt that I was taking too long to find a new residence. Or perhaps he was disappointed that I wouldn't be living at the consulate anymore. It was difficult to say which way his feelings on that subject lay.

"Thank you, Constable," I said. I went into my office and called Francesca's extension.

"I've been waiting for you to call," Francesca told me.

"Yes, so Constable Turnbull informed me. I'm sorry I missed your call; I was looking at apartments today."

"Really? Oh, you should just move into our place. There's an empty room. Plus, Ray's been saying he might move out, so that would give us even more space. And if he doesn't, you could carpool to work with us."

"Francesca... I don't think that would be... expedient. But thank you for the offer."

"It's all the loudmouths in that house, right? Say no more. You like your peace and quiet. Hey, so guess what! I blew off my date for tonight, and I can go bowling with you guys after all."

"Oh... I don't think Ray..."

"Now, Fraze, don't worry about a thing. I'm sure Ray will be fine with it. "

"I'm not so sure."

Trust me, he will."

"Even so, it may not be a good idea to try to change plans at this point..."

"Well, I wanna go. Do you not _want_ me to go?"

"No, it isn't that," I said quickly. "It's just that... this particular establishment we're planning to visit may not be the best environment for a lady of your..."

"Oh, come on, what's so terrible about a bowling alley? Which one are you going to?"

I didn't want to tell her which place RayV had chosen, in case she turned up unexpectedly. That could cause trouble. "...Somewhere Ray recommended," I said vaguely.

"...Fine. You know what? I'll just go with someone else, then. Or call that guy back, which is kind of humiliating, so thanks a lot..."

"I'm terribly sorry to put you out," I said, even though it was certainly not my fault that she had broken her date. "It isn't that you wouldn't be welcome..."

"Yeah..."

"I'm sure you can come with us another time."

"Yeah, I know..."

"I'll see you at the station Monday," I said, bringing the discussion to a conclusion.

"Okay," she said, sounding more subdued. "Seeya."

I put the receiver down, heavy-hearted. I hoped RayK was wrong about RayV's motives. If not, it was very unfair treatment for Francesca, in my opinion.

* * *

 _Thank you for your attention. Your comments are appreciated. ~B. Fraser  
_


	14. Catching Up

_Ray: Five UK readers now! You guys rock! Do British people say that?  
_

 _Fraser: I'm sure the English are well-versed in such slang._

 _Ray: How do you know? You ever been to England?_

 _Fraser: Well, no, but I have been known to sit through a BBC program or two, and..._

 _Ray: Fraser? Zip it._

 _Fraser: Very well._

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Catching Up

"Was Francesca very upset?" I asked RayV when he picked me up to go bowling.

"Nah, she perked up and started primping right after supper, so I think she decided to go on her date after all."

"Ah. Well, I'm glad."

"Not like it matters. She wasn't invited in the first place."

It seemed like an uncharitable thing to say, and not the most logical thing, either. "You did discourage her from coming for her own good, yes?" I asked pointedly.

"Yeah. 'Course. I'm just sayin'."

I studied his profile while he drove, and I couldn't be certain that he was being entirely honest with me.

When we got to the bowling alley, the man behind the counter told me that dogs were not allowed.

"Actually, he's a—" I started.

"Actually, he's a police dog," Ray said, getting out his badge.

"Oh, yeah?" the man asked, leaning over the counter to get a better look. "Does he sniff for drugs?"

"Should he?"

"I'm just asking... like, what tricks does he do?"

"We can have him demonstrate tackling you if you would like."

"Eh, whatever. As long as he's housebroken and doesn't bother anyone. But if he starts barking or anything like that, he goes outside."

"He won't," Ray said.

I nodded at the man behind the counter. "Thank you kindly."

As we sat down to put on our bowling shoes, I said, "You know, Ray... strictly speaking, Diefenbaker is not an officially trained police dog."

"Shh. I know that. I wasn't speaking strictly. I was being technical. Dief does police work; he's a police dog. End of story. You wanna leave him outside?"

Dief whined.

"Well, no."

"Good, so there's no problem."

I was starting to realize just how much Ray liked to stretch the truth for the sake of convenience. I was also starting to think RayK had been right about his motive for leaving Francesca out of his plans.

* * *

On the way back to the consulate, Ray explained to me all the subtle factors that contributed to his being just slightly "off his game" that night, resulting in my having beaten him by several points. I tried to listen, but mostly I was thinking about the women I had seen at the bowling alley. Many of them were young and attractive. And I hadn't seen any harassment going on. I felt a bit perturbed.

"I'll see you Monday, all right?" he said when I got out of the car.

"Yes. Good evening."

He waved and drove off.

I looked up at the sky. It was a little cloudy, but we hadn't gotten any rain that day as we had the day before. I thought it would be nice to see the sky away from the city again, but I doubted that would happen for a long time.

Dief and I went inside and got ready to retire. "It's late," I told him. "So, I'm going to let you sleep in a little. Perhaps until six-thirty or seven. Just remember, we have that luxury because it's the weekend."

Dief made a persecuted sound and lay down on his favorite rug.

"A poor attitude will do nothing to improve your situation," I said.

I was about to fall asleep when our night watchman, Constable Dean Edwards, knocked on my door.

"Sorry to disturb you, but there's a telephone call for you, sir," Edwards explained. "Detective Vecchio."

"Oh. Thank you. I'll take it in my office."

I pulled my trousers on over my union suit before going out to take the call. "Hello, Ray?" I said, full of curiosity.

"Hey, Benny. Franny isn't home yet. I was just wondering if you knew where she is. Has she called or anything?"

"No," I said, frowning. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearing midnight. "When did she leave the house?"

"Ma said around seven-thirty. She didn't say who she was going out with. Maria said she was pretty sure she'd cancelled her date with the Glenn-mustache guy, but she's not sure they didn't go out after all. Then again, it could be anybody."

"Well... Francesca isn't exactly a child," I pointed out, trying not to think of the time she had shown up at my apartment in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, I know... I just..." He trailed off.

"Ray?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I think a car's pulling up. Yep, that's gotta be her."

"Ah. Good. Let me know if anything is amiss."

"Sure, thanks. Sorry to bother you."

"Not at all."

I returned to my bed, grateful that things had worked out. Ray clearly did care deeply for his sister, whether or not he particularly wanted to bowl with her.

* * *

The next day I did sleep in until seven. I showered and shaved and fed Diefenbaker, took him for a walk and bought breakfast at an open-air cafe. It was mid-morning by that time, and I felt a little guilty at having accomplished practically nothing so far. Still, it was Sunday. I went to the park for a game of chess before returning to the consulate to see if I had any messages. I didn't, and Inspector Lam had nothing to occupy me, other than ordering a pizza for him. The new inspector was quite a no-nonsense sort, except that he had become enamored of Chicago's culinary claim to fame.

By the time I was done with that, I was actually beginning to feel a bit bored. I went out again, thinking about the apartments I had looked at, going over them in my mind. I tried to weigh the merits of each logically, but I kept thinking about the look on RayK's face when he admitted that he wanted me to live near him for selfish reasons. Is it really selfish to want to see more of a friend?

We had certainly seen a lot of each other while searching for the grave of John Franklin. On many days, he was the only person I saw. We got into some very empty territory. I started to notice the little habits in his speech, what some of his less transparent expressions meant, what was likely to encourage him when he was tired. I'd seen him come to understand me a little better, too. He started to predict what I would say or decide to do about something before I told him. We were partners before, but so much more so after those several weeks together.

Going from a familiar two-man team back to a less compact, less predictable group hadn't been simple, but I didn't see it as a difficult thing. Maybe Ray did. Maybe he missed knowing who he would see when he woke up, and who would be beside him all day, and who would make sure he was safe at night.

Anytime I said something about the apartment in Ray's building, Dief seemed to perk up, whereas he showed little enthusiasm for any of the others. The other apartments should have been just as appealing to a canine as that one, so I could conclude only one thing: Dief liked the prospect of living near Ray better than living anywhere else. I wouldn't say that was what decided it for me, but it did make things easier.

"Come on," I told Dief.

Back at the consulate, I went to my office and made a phone call.

"Hello," a woman answered.

"Good afternoon, Miz Tate," I said. "This is Benton Fraser. You were kind enough to show me an apartment yesterday."

"Oh, Benton. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to tell you that I would like to take the room, if it's still available."

"It sure is. I can't process your paperwork yet because it's the weekend..."

"Of course. And I'm sorry to bother you today. I just wanted to be sure not to miss my chance."

"Okay. You just come by tomorrow or the day after, and we'll get that started for you."

"Thank you kindly, ma'am."

I hung up the phone and saw Dief looking expectantly at me. "Yes," I said. "We're going to be Ray's neighbors."

Dief trotted over to me and gave my arm a nudge, a rare show of affection. I patted his head in return. "I think so, too," I said.

By suppertime, I had gotten in touch with the landlords of the other apartments and told them I had made other arrangements. Then I received a call from RayK.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "Did Ray tell you what happened to Franny and me last night?"

"No... he was worried because Francesca was out later than usual, but then he said she was home. That's all he told me."

"Oh. Well, see, the thing is..."

He proceeded to tell me all about the attempted kidnapping.

"All of this happened last night?" I asked, feeling a sort of retroactive worry for my friends, along with some indignation that no one had thought to tell me about it when it occurred.

"Yeah, it was quite a night."

"Why didn't you call me right away? Ray, I have been living in complete ignorance of the facts for..." I looked at the clock. "...eighteen hours or so."

"I guess it didn't occur to me. She was safe and... I guess I thought it would keep. Didn't want to worry you."

He sounded as if he understood his mistake and regretted it, so I let it go. I asked him to meet me at the crime scene, and with some reluctance he agreed and offered to pick me up.

I noticed that Ray seemed tired, and there were some irritated-looking red marks on his neck, but he seemed to move normally, so I concluded that he wasn't badly hurt.

After we found a few shreds of evidence, RayV joined us for a few minutes. He invited us to dinner, but RayK declined, pointing out that Francesca could probably do with some peace. RayK took me back to the consulate.

Because of the attempted kidnapping, I forgot all about deciding which apartment to live in until I sat down to read before going to bed. I would tell Ray later; maybe tomorrow.

* * *

In the morning, I stood guard outside the consulate; then I picked up lunch for my friends at the Chicago PD and we ate in the lunchroom there.

When Francesca joined us, she gave me a hug which I welcomed. I was glad to see that she seemed to be doing just fine after her ordeal, and told her as much.

We discussed the case and both Francesca and Ray were able to recall a few details that they hadn't before. By the time we returned to the bullpen to continue the investigation, we had a rough idea of the people we were looking for.

After a while, RayK pointed out that the kidnappers might attempt to take a different member of RayV's family, and that set us into motion. RayV and Francesca left with Diefenbaker to find Maria, and RayK and I went to see if we could intercept the malefactors.

"They could be tailing Maria right now," Ray said as we headed for his car.

"Perhaps," I answered, "but I think it more likely that they will wait closer to the house. Maria took the bus because Tony has their car at his workplace, and as we discussed previously, the walk between the bus stop and the Vecchio house is a fairly secluded area. They might or might not attempt to take her in broad daylight; I'm guessing they would, since their previous attempt failed. They'll be getting desperate."

I continued my line of reasoning, but after a while, I started to think Ray had stopped listening. He parked about a block away from the house and we prepared to seek our quarry.

"Let me just call Ray real quick," Ray said, getting out his phone. He spoke to RayV briefly and then put the phone away again. "They haven't found Maria yet," he reported. "I told him where we're at."

The seriousness of the occasion forestalled my impulse to remind Ray that it was incorrect to end a sentence with a preposition. Instead I said, "I think we should split up to cover more ground.

He shook his head. "You're not armed, Fraser. I'd feel better if you stuck with me."

I relented, and we searched together.

As Ray has already related, we found our nicotine gum-chewing, combat boot-wearing miscreant and managed to collect him in spite of an ill-timed call from RayV. RayK handed the phone off to me so he could deal with the suspect, and I heard RayV's voice saying, "Ray? Fraser? What is going on?"

I began relaying what was happening.

"I told you not to do anything crazy!" RayV exclaimed over the phone. "Oh, my god, you two are gonna die because you can't follow simple instructions!"

"Oh, Ray, we're not going to die," I told him firmly.

"You better not, or I'll kill you! Again."

"But we may be in need of backup."

"Damn it!" I heard RayK shout, followed by, "Fraser, he's going down!"

I turned to hurry down the stairs and out of the building. I didn't speak on the phone again until RayK had handcuffs on our suspect.

"Talk to me!" I heard RayV's voice as I put the phone to my ear.

"Nothing to worry about," I assured him.

"Nothing to worry about! I heard gunshots!"

"We have a suspect in custody. However, don't cancel the backup. I'm sure his partner is in the vicinity, and we need to find him."

"Okay... that's good. Listen, we found Maria. Also, Welsh called me a few minutes ago. Unies found the Dodge we were looking for abandoned on the outskirts. It came up stolen. Meet us back at the station when you're done there and we'll get to work on the one you've got."

"Understood."

* * *

 _Thank you for your attention. A response is not mandatory, but it is appreciated. ~B. Fraser  
_


	15. Moving In

_Reminder from Mairead: if you haven't read my profile, you're going to want to do that eventually, and sooner is better than later with a long story like this.  
_

 _Thanks for keeping up with us, Nutmeg9Cat!_

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Moving In

RayV and I watched RayK interview our suspect. This part was less diverting for me than the tracking part, but I did take an interest in the Chicago PD's interrogation methods, especially those of my friends. There seemed to be a little less yelling involved this time around, though I could see that there was plenty of the body language in which RayK put so much stock.

After the first round, we learned that our second man had been found; the uniformed officers had redeemed themselves for losing the stolen car in the chase Saturday night. RayV took his sister away so she could avoid confrontation with the man who had assaulted her. Diefenbaker had remained at the Vecchio house, and for a while, there was nothing to do but look through mug shots.

When the second kidnapper arrived, RayK began searching the database for his face, since, like our first suspect, he was not forthcoming about his identity. If they had criminal records, their fingerprints would turn up before long, but if we were lucky, this might be faster. I used what I had learned from a cursory look at the first man, along with what RayK and Francesca had told me about him, to narrow down my search for him. By the time RayV returned, I had a possible match; he confirmed it by his usual method of nose comparison.

It was then that I noticed the smell on RayV. It was subtle, but I realized I had smelled it on him before and not noticed it consciously. It was a smell like tobacco smoke and something else. I pushed the curiosity away for another time.

Armed with the first suspect's name, RayK went back in for a second round of interrogation. Then the lawyers arrived, and negotiation began. As we expected, it was the younger man who cooperated.

When the day was finally over, we collected Francesca and Diefenbaker before going out for a Chinese dinner. On our arrival, Dief took RayK by surprise with a round of licking. I guessed that like me, the wolf had noticed something bothering him. He seemed to want to cheer him up, and I remembered that I still hadn't told him that I planned to take the apartment across from his. It wasn't the right time now, with RayV and his sister present, so I again decided to wait.

Mr. Lee and his family gave us exceptional service. I knew he was grateful for our help in recovering his son, and his gratitude extended to our friends and family. I made certain to assure him that there was no need to go so far, while at the same time being careful not to insult his hospitality. Honor, respect and gratitude come with particular expectations in Chinese culture. Diefenbaker had no qualms about accepting whatever was offered him in his usual greedy manner.

In the course of discussion, we came to the conclusion that Francesca ought to take a self-defense course. She is quite disarming in appearance: petite, pretty, feminine. So, one tends to think of her in a vein of vulnerability. If we, her friends and family, felt that way, those with bad intentions were sure to as well. We would all feel better for her safety if she learned to defend herself. And, since her brother did not like the idea of her carrying a weapon, a self-defense course at the police academy was the logical choice.

When we parted ways, I noticed a wistful look in RayK's eyes as he said good night to Francesca. I thought this might be more evidence of whatever had been bothering him of late, and I decided to try to get to the bottom of it. However, he quickly redirected the conversation onto my own agitation. I decided to confess my worry about RayV and the unusual smell. My friend reminded me that I had always been able to trust RayV, and I felt reassured that if it were important enough, he would tell me about it eventually.

When we got back to the consulate, I felt it was finally time to bring up the apartment. At first, I thought I had misunderstood his feelings on the matter, because he just stared at me for a moment. Then his face lit up.

"Hey, that's great," he said.

"I'm glad you think so. I'll move in in a couple of days." I got Dief out of the car. "See you tomorrow... neighbor."

"Yeah, see you."

He looked so happy, I was sure I had made the best decision.

* * *

RayK proved very helpful in moving me into apartment 308 and assisting me in finding furniture for it. He even let Dief stay in his apartment while we were out at the thrift stores. After we put together my bed frame, he surprised me with a box of ice cream which we ate right out of the box with plastic spoons. Though he was a good friend, I hadn't expected such a thoughtful gesture from him.

Ray has a few odd quirks. For instance, he has no problem eating out of the same dish as someone else, but he objects very strongly to our utensils coming in contact. I tried to tell him there was no logical sense behind the distinction, but he wouldn't hear it. I thought over our time in the Yukon and recalled many occasions on which one of us had been eating something and then handed off the dish to the other to finish. The dish was the same, but I couldn't recall whether we had ever eaten off the same fork or spoon without washing it. I thought it must have happened, because our chances to wash things properly had been few and far between. Still, I didn't mention any of that, knowing it might spark an argument that would get us nowhere.

He offered to let me sleep on his sofa until I acquired a mattress, but I was used to sleeping on my bedroll from time to time, and I preferred sleeping in my new residence to imposing on his hospitality.

Dief and I walked to the door with him and watched until he was inside his own.

"Good night, guys," he said with a small laugh.

"Good night, Ray," I answered.

He hesitated a moment before closing his door. I wasn't sure if he had wanted to tell me something, or if he'd thought I wanted to tell him something... I guess I got a little lost in thought. I was thinking about sleeping outside in our bedrolls, tucked under the same wool blanket to keep each other warm. Thinking about how dependent he had been on me during that time for his very survival, and how he had never doubted that I would take care of us. Here, he was the one looking after me. I wasn't used to that. By example, my father had taught me to look after myself, and not to count on anyone else for help. It was hard at first not to feel that I was coming up short somehow, needing to accept this level of assistance from someone else.

Dief nudged my hand and I closed our door. I followed him over to my bedroll where he sat and waited expectantly. I unrolled it and went to brush my teeth before putting the light out and bedding down. Dief curled up beside me, resting his head on my shoulder, and I felt better. Was a wolf weak for depending on his pack members to help him run down game, or keep watch over him at night? No. He was intelligent to work with other wolves. Cooperation makes work easier and leisure more restful. It was something my grandparents had tried to instill in me, in spite of my father's example.

I stroked Dief's smooth head. "Good night, old friend."

Dief's tail thumped against the floor three times. Then he sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

The next day when his shift was over, RayK helped me find a mattress at the outlet he had recommended. We picked up some sheets as well, and he helped me make up the bed when we got back to my apartment.

He told me that he had managed to get in touch with Paul Vecchio while I'd been at lunch with RayV. I hoped the plan would come together. RayK seemed very intent on making it happen. Having had little experience with my only sibling, whom I still barely knew, I was almost as ignorant about sibling relationships as my friend was, so I could offer little insight or advice.

When Ray left the apartment, I scolded Diefenbaker for sniffing him in an attempt to find food. "You can't expect him to give you something every time we see him," I said.

Dief grumbled.

"I know we're neighbors now, but that doesn't mean that all pretense of etiquette should go out the window." I waited, but got no response. "Oh, I see. Go ahead and sulk. I'm about to make dinner now, and if your attitude hasn't improved in time, you won't be getting any."

He was over his sulk by the time I finished cooking, as was usually the case. After we ate, I retired to my bedroom, which was looking more comfortable now that I had added a dresser and a rug for Dief to sleep on.

I settled in to read a little Stevenson before going to sleep. Dief curled up beside my bed. I read aloud for a while, to show him that our disagreement earlier was completely forgotten. Then he was asleep and I read a while longer before putting my light out.

* * *

Dief woke me a few hours later. He pounced on my shoulder and yipped, a fairly uncommon behavior from him. I sat up and looked around. I realized I had neglected to bring a clock into the apartment, and I couldn't see my watch in the dark.

I got up and went to the window to see if dawn had come yet, but Dief ran to the front door and barked.

"What is it?" I asked, going to join him. I realized that he couldn't read my lips in the dark, so I put the light on when I reached the door. He stood with his paws against it and barked again.

I opened the door and looked up and down the hall. No one was outside. However, Dief ran across the hall and began giving Ray's door the same treatment, barking and pushing on it with his paws.

Beginning to feel concerned, I knocked on Ray's door. "Ray?" I called. When there was no answer, I tried a second time. Perhaps Dief had scented smoke or a gas leak and Ray was unconscious in his apartment.

I moved back and Dief scampered to the side. I was about to kick the door in when I heard it unlock. Then it opened, and there was Ray. He looked sleepy, squinting at me in the light of the hall.

"Fraser?"

"Ray."

"What's going on? It's two-thirty in the morning." His voice was thick, slurred with sleep.

"Diefenbaker woke me," I told him, just as bewildered as he appeared to be. "He seemed to think you were in some distress."

"Really?" He looked at Dief and cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he sounded less hoarse. "I figured only one of those epiphany thingies would get you over here in your Boy Scout pajamas..."

"So, you weren't in distress?" I asked, wanting to be sure.

He glanced at me and then down. "Well... no, not really."

"Not really?"

He licked his lips. "Well, I was... having a sort of a... a nightmare."

"Oh." I had known Ray to have an occasional nightmare when we were together in Canada, and Dief had often woken him with nudges and licking. Ray would wake up, mutter a complaint to the wolf, roll over and go back to sleep. He had always seemed his usual self in the morning, and I didn't tend to ask what he had dreamed about. After returning to the United States, I kept meaning to ask him what became of the dream catcher I'd made him, but I kept forgetting.

I glanced at Dief, who was watching Ray intently.

"But he's deaf," Ray went on. "So, how would he know that from inside your apartment?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps he detected adrenaline in the air."

"Are you for real, Fraser?"

"Vibrations through the floor..."

"That's really... far fetched." He looked at Dief again, and the wolf moved closer to him. Ray petted his head. "I'm fine," he said, sounding admirably kind considering that Dief was responsible for interrupting his sleep.

"Did this nightmare have something to do with a case?" I asked, thinking that perhaps it featured a version of Francesca's kidnapping in which the abduction was successful.

"No. Well, not directly," he answered. He looked uncomfortable. "It was just a dream."

"Quite... well, if you're all right, we should go back to bed."

"Yeah. G'night."

"Good night." Dief and I went back into our doorway.

"Fraser? Thanks... for checking on me."

I nodded. "Of course." I closed the door.

Dief grumbled.

"Well, he didn't want to talk about it," I said indignantly. "Maybe he will tomorrow, or maybe by then he'll feel better. Either way, that's more than enough excitement for one night."

He grumbled once more, a little more quietly, and went to curl up by my bed again.

* * *

 _Thank you kindly for reading, and for your continued interest. ~B. Fraser  
_


	16. Dreams And Donkeys

__We have two Italian readers now! And a whopping 11 in the UK. That's even more awesome because I just found out that the guy who played me in this world was actually born in England! Kinda crazy how well he did my accent. Enjoy chapter 16. ~Ray K.  
__

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Dreams And Donkeys

I can remember my mom telling me and my dad about some crazy dreams she'd had. My dad didn't have much tolerance for listening to a second-hand dream. He'd get bored or frustrated because it didn't make any sense. But I liked my mom's dreams. A lot of them made me laugh, and we liked to try to figure out where they had come from.

Some people don't dream at all. Well, they do, but they don't remember their dreams. I've learned since coming to Mairead's world that everyone actually does dream, but some people have such regular sleep cycles that their brains have always finished the dreaming phase and forgotten about the dreams by the time they wake up. If you woke one of those people up during "REM cycle," they would remember dreaming like anyone else does. But for the sake of what stays in the memory, we'll say they don't dream.

Sometimes I wish I didn't dream. I don't every night, and sometimes when I do, they're OK dreams. Nice, even. But now and then, I have a nightmare. When I was a kid I had a couple of recurring nightmares. One was being abducted by aliens. Another took a lot of different shapes, but it was always at least loosely based on the time I wet my pants in public. It sucked. Since then, I've moved on to more grown-up themes which also suck: My dog dying. Getting shot. Watching my partner die. Losing a crucial piece of evidence. Screwing up my marriage. And the big one that lasted from childhood to adulthood: Drowning.

I never learned to swim. I liked kiddie pools when I was little, sitting outside in the sun, splashing around... but I was always scared of going into deep water. Maybe all my mom's warnings to not "go in over my head" had made me shy of it in the first place, but it took just one time of getting water up my nose to make me think I never wanted to swim in the deep end of any pool. The feeling of water closing over my head, the liquid that is so refreshing in a glass was burning through my nasal passages, attacking my lungs. I couldn't scream. Couldn't cry. Couldn't even cough. Couldn't even breathe.

I think sheer terror was what finally got me to hack most of the water out. Then I could gasp a little, only to cough again. Again and again. It didn't help that my mom was freaking out, asking me if I was OK, patting me on the back... none of that did any good. I couldn't answer her.

I was all right; no trips to the hospital or anything. But I was scared spitless of going underwater after that. Whenever a school friend had a pool party, I told my mom I didn't want to go. I sometimes said I felt sick. Sometimes I just asked her to _say_ that I was sick. Sometimes the thought of going legitimately made me sick.

When I got older, I got kind of all right with boats. I guess it's like someone afraid of heights doing all right on a bridge as long as they don't spend a lot of time looking over the side. There's something strong between you and what you're afraid of, and you trust that whoever made it—the boat or the bridge—knew what they were doing, and it'll hold you. You don't panic unless you look down too much and start psyching yourself out.

As a full-grown adult, I had logic on my side. Even though I still couldn't swim, I knew more or less what to expect from water. I still didn't want to attempt swimming in deep water, but I could be around it. That's why I was willing to drive the Riviera into Lake Michigan, even though it seemed likely I wouldn't make it out alive. Better for me and the crazy Mountie to drown than for us to endanger a lot more lives by continuing to drive around in a flaming vehicle, or so he convinced me in the literal heat of the moment. That was our first case together. Good times.

I knew about getting out of a sinking car. I forgot to put my window down before we hit the water, but I got my seatbelt off with no problem and waited for the water pressure to rise inside the car so I could get the door open. As the car sank, I was crawling out the half-open door, onto the roof of the car, and then pushing off it... then I was flailing toward the shore. Flailing wildly and making no headway. I felt something brush my hand and I freaked out a little, thinking it was some sea creature. But a split second later, I realized it was the wolf and I grabbed on. He pulled me along a little until I lost my grip. Then something else caught my coat and started pulling me. It was Fraser, of course. Somehow he managed to keep both our heads out of the water enough to keep breathing, and also got us back to the pier just behind Diefenbaker.

They'd saved my life, though I wasn't quite ready to admit it. Still, it made me kind of cocky, and I decided to trust my bullet-proof vest to give us the upper hand when we confronted the arsonist. Just like I hoped, we were a one-two punch, only in this case I set her up and he knocked her down. It was still a win, so I didn't worry about the order too much. And being alive was a bonus at that point.

Then had come that crazy-ass case that had me and Fraser sailing around looking for crooks and singing sea chanties... Fraser says it's spelled _chanteys..._ anyway, the important thing is, we got trapped on a sinking ship. I can't think of a time in my life when I was more terrified. I had already told Fraser I couldn't swim, and then he got me into that mess.

I was able to keep from losing my head because of that grown-up logic. I kind of knew how to float, and I knew what it would feel like if I got water in my lungs, and though I didn't want to die that way, at least I knew how bad it would feel... there's a strange kind of resolve that can come over a person when they know exactly how much they're about to be hurting. But I didn't want to die, and I did have a few panicky moments. If Fraser hadn't been with me, there's no doubt in my mind that I would have died. The "swimming lesson" he gave me was pretty pathetic—I could barely make any progress, and it took me forever—but it was enough to keep me kicking. Literally. Barely.

That night that Dief somehow detected my nightmare, it was a drowning dream. I was trapped underwater. I could hear the water rushing around me as I frantically reached out, searching for anything that could help me get out. I couldn't tell which way was up. I was going to die.

Then the rushing turned into barking, knocking, and a voice. Someone was on the deck of the sinking ship, trying to find me. They knocked on the wooden planks and called my name.

"I'm here," I tried to shout, but my voice was muffled by water. "Fraser!" I screamed, but hardly any sound came out. As I sucked in another huge breath, I woke up with a sickening rush of vertigo, coughing hoarsely.

I panted a few times.

"Ray?"

Fraser seemed to be knocking at the door of my apartment. I crawled out of bed, noting the time on my digital alarm clock, glanced down at my sleeveless shirt and sweatpants just to reassure myself that I was more or less clothed—no sense in sparking a new series of nightmares in the "I forgot an important article of clothing" category—and hurried to the door.

When I opened it, Fraser seemed poised to charge toward me.

"Fraser?"

"Ray." He was looking at me kind of wide-eyed.

"What's going on? It's two-thirty in the morning," I said, sounding pretty whiny, I guess. My throat felt tight.

"Diefenbaker woke me. He seemed to think you were in some distress."

"Really?" I looked at Dief and cleared my throat "I figured only one of those epiphany thingies would get you over here in your Boy Scout pajamas..."

"So, you weren't in distress?"

I glanced at him and then avoided his gaze. This was kind of awkward. "Well... no, not really."

"Not really?"

"Well, I was... having a sort of a... a nightmare."

"Oh."

I knew Fraser knew I had nightmares occasionally, and he'd never pestered me about them, but I still felt kind of embarrassed about it. I kept meaning to try to find that dream catcher he'd made me for Ray's birthday, but I couldn't remember where I'd stashed it and kept forgetting to look. "But he's deaf," I said, wanting to redirect the conversation. "So, how would he know that from inside your apartment?"

Fraser shrugged. "Perhaps he detected adrenaline in the air."

"Are you for real, Fraser?"

"Vibrations through the floor..."

"That's really... far fetched." When I looked at Dief, he moved closer and I petted his head. "I'm fine," I told him. I appreciated Dief's concern. He seemed to be taking his good neighbor duties to heart, and this wasn't the first time he had woken me up from nightmares. He was weirdly empathetic when it came to things like that.

"Did this nightmare have something to do with a case?" Fraser asked.

"No. Well, not directly," I said. I didn't want to talk about it, so I added, "It was just a dream."

"Quite... well, if you're all right, we should go back to bed."

"Yeah. G'night."

"Good night." He and Dief went back to his doorway.

"Fraser?" I said quickly. "Thanks... for checking on me."

He nodded. "Of course." He closed his door.

Of course... Fraser was the best friend I'd ever had. Of course he wouldn't ignore Dief. Of course he would check on me. Of course it was no trouble. Of course I could count on him.

Of course, I was embarrassed as hell. But for some reason, I felt good, too. My best friend was right across the hall. Nothing bad could happen to me while he was there. I wasn't going to let a dream get the better of me.

Of course, I had the dream again later that night, but this time I woke up before it got very far. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

* * *

Friday, we learned that Ray's former associate Giuliano De Luca had been arrested, and was being transported to Chicago Saturday for his arraignment on Monday. Even though we were pretty sure he wouldn't have a chance to send anyone else after Ray's family, we would all keep our eyes peeled for trouble. Ray wouldn't say exactly what he had done to get De Luca so pissed off at him. I thought he would at least tell Fraser, but apparently not. Whether because he didn't want it to effect Fraser's opinion of him, or because he really took his oath to secrecy that seriously, I'm not sure. In the meantime, we had our new case/cold case to work on.

"I feel like I'm looking at tabloids," I complained. "You know, the 'What they're doing now' articles about celebs after they get old."

"Except they're way too ugly to be celebrities," Franny put in, looking over my shoulder at the pictures on my computer screen.

"Yeah, that's the one difference," I muttered.

Just when we were getting back to work after lunch, we were surprised by a visit from Constable Turnbull.

"Constable Fraser," he said, saluting Fraser unnecessarily.

"Turnbull," Fraser answered, returning the salute clearly out of tact.

"Inspector Lam asked me to tell you that he needs to speak to you on a certain matter at your convenience."

Fraser tilted his head. "And you felt it necessary to find me here in order to tell me something that can wait for a time of my convenience?"

"No sense in putting things off. And besides, I was already out on my lunch hour."

"I see. Well... thank you."

Turnbull nodded. "You're welcome!" He turned to Francesca. "Miss Vecchio, I also have some information that you might find useful."

"Me?" Franny asked.

"Yes indeedy. If you would be so kind as to accompany me somewhere quieter."

"Uh... I guess..."

Ray looked very confused as they left. "What's Fraser Junior doing with my sister?" he asked, sounding more bewildered than annoyed.

"During your absence, Constable Turnbull formed a friendship with Francesca," Fraser explained. "Most notably, she enlisted his help in finding a country song which contained the word 'donkey.' As of yet, he has come up with one which contained the word 'mule.' But by the look on his face, I'm guessing he hit nearer the mark this time."

"I thought she finally dropped that," I said.

"She may well have, but once Turnbull gets a goal in his mind, he doesn't let it go easily."

"Who does that remind me of?" Ray muttered.

A minute later, we heard quiet guitar music coming from the lunchroom.

"You were right," I said. I called over to detective Huey, "Hey, I think Franny may have finally found that donkey song."

"Who cares?" said Dewy.

Huey shrugged. "Took her long enough. I forgot about that a long time ago."

But we all set aside whatever we were doing when Francesca and Turnbull returned a few minutes later.

"Gentlemen," Franny said loudly, "we have... a song _very_ much featuring the word 'donkey!' Turnbull?"

The Mountie put his foot up on a chair, resting his guitar on his knee, and began to strum and sing. "I bought me a donkey, 'bout four foot tall to plow my cotton in the early fall..."

Franny was grinning ear to ear while Turnbull sang, but by the time he got to the second chorus, Dewy interrupted.

"That's not country."

"It's folk at best," said Huey.

Turnbull stopped playing. "I must object," he said. "This is Johnny Horton, award-winning country and rockabilly singer."

"So, it's rockabilly," said Dewy.

"Oh, come on!" Franny erupted. "Just admit it! There are country songs about donkeys!"

"If we admit it, will you let this go?" asked Huey.

"I guess so," Franny said, looking like she hated to let them off so easy.

"Fine. There are country songs about donkeys."

Franny looked at Dewy and he nodded reluctantly. She grinned and gave Turnbull a high five.

"Now, you need to admit that not _all_ country is sob stories and donkey ballads," Huey said.

Franny laughed. "I don't have to admit anything. And I don't have to like what I don't like. I can think country sucks if I want to."

"Oh, I do hope you'll change your mind about that," Turnbull said in a tone so earnest it was almost painful.

"I'll tell you what," said Huey. "I'll bet you that we can find a country song you like."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Well... no money on this, right? Just a flat bet?"

"No money."

"Okay. You've got a week."

"You had months!" Dewy objected.

"That's fine," said Huey. "I'm sure we can find one." He whispered something to his partner, who snickered.

"Is the concert over?" demanded Lieutenant Welsh, who I suddenly realized had been standing in his doorway for a while.

We all tried to look busy.

"In case you've forgotten, this is a police station, not a night club, a honky-tonk bar or jazz cafe. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," we chorused.

"Good. So, police, do your policing. And you..." he looked at Turnbull, who assumed perfect military stature, guitar at his side. "You go back wherever you came from. One is enough."

"Yes, sir!" Turnbull saluted.

Welsh shook his head and went back into his office.

Once the door closed, we all sighed, or in Franny's case, chuckled.

"Thanks... Renfield," Franny said. She got up on her tiptoes and kissed Turnbull's cheek, seeming to turn him bright red in an instant.

"Oh, you're very welcome, miss Francesca. I'd best be going now." The constable hurried from the bullpen.

I watched him go, not knowing whether or not to feel threatened. I caught Ray looking at me, and I knew he wasn't sure what to make of it, either. Maybe I was looking like an okay boy friend for his sister now, by comparison if nothing else.

* * *

 _More to come, but feel free to comment on what's already up. ~Ray K.  
_


	17. House Warming

_You guys have been keeping up pretty well, so I may start posting a little more quickly. We'll see. I have 27 chapters drafted. Yeah, I know. Never thought it would take so long to tell all this stuff. I'm thinking I might jump ahead to when Fraser and Ray and I showed up in this world... time-traveled... dimension-jumped. Whatever you want to call it. And I might jump back and forth between the times a bit. I don't want to be confusing, but I do want to explain how and why we're here and stuff. We'll see how it goes.  
_

 _We're up to 14 UK readers now. Still no Canadians. It's your show, Canada! Show it a little love. (Fraser of course has to point out that if they're not reading already, they won't see my message. Killjoy.) ~Ray K._

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: House Warming

After we got done with work that night, Fraser invited me, Ray and Franny to his place for a little apartment-warming dinner. Of course, we all went.

"I hope you won't be too critical," Fraser said, sounding genuinely nervous, "but I decided to go with an Italian theme tonight: lasagna and garlic bread with a caesar salad."

"Oho," said Ray, rubbing his hands together. "Some of my favorite stuff Benny. You took a risk."

I went to the small dining table Fraser had acquired and offered one of the two chairs to Franny. She and I sat down while Ray went to hover annoyingly over Fraser while he put the lasagna in the oven.

"Prepared it ahead of time," Ray observed. "That was good planning. You're turning into quite the little homemaker, now that you live someplace bigger than a matchbox."

Franny cleared her throat.

"I did have some help," Fraser said quickly. "I got the lasagna recipe from Francesca."

Ray looked at his sister in surprise. "For real? Since when do you cook?"

"I can cook!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I just usually don't. I've seen ma do it a hundred times, and one time I made lasagna for Fraser." She gave a little superior shrug. "It was no big deal."

"Huh."

"I'm sorry there aren't enough chairs for all of us," Fraser said. "There were only two left of the set, but that did allow me to purchase it for a bargain price. I'll find some more soon."

"I like it," I said, running my hand along the table's edge. "It looks kinda rustic, but not shabby."

"Well, I sanded it down a bit."

"That's what that sound was!" I exclaimed. "I woke up at like six and there was this... shh-shh, shh-shh..."

Ray looked at me with one eyebrow cocked. "I can see why you two get along so well."

"I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep," said Fraser.

He looked _very_ sorry, and I knew he was thinking about how I hadn't been sleeping well anyway. I didn't want to get on that subject. "It's fine," I said. "It turned out nice."

"I still have to finish it, but it wouldn't have been dry by tonight, so I waited."

"I think we've got some stain if you want it," said Ray. "Leftover from remodeling the porch after the fire."

"Thank you. I would appreciate that."

"Oh, and I know you don't drink, but I brought some wine for the rest of us..." Ray indicated a paper bag he had brought in with him. "And some sparkling grape juice for you."

Fraser smiled. "That was very thoughtful."

"And I brought playing cards," I announced, pulling them from my back pocket. "Care for a round of poker while we wait?"

"I'm in," Franny said.

"Ever play blackjack?" asked Ray.

"Eh... once or twice," I said. I wasn't crazy about the game.

"Played a lot o' blackjack in Vegas. It was kinda the thing in Langoustini's circle."

"Then we definitely don't wanna play it against you," Franny concluded. "Poker, it is."

Ray seemed a little disappointed, but he didn't argue. "You playing, Benny? I know you barely got the basics down, but we can school you along."

"Actually," Fraser said, "I've participated in a few games during your absence, and I think I'm getting the hang of it."

I smirked. He'd come a long way since I met him, but he still couldn't bluff a lick, and he kept getting the hand names wrong. "Maybe we should team up," I said.

I could see that Ray liked my idea, but then he realized that that would mean either he was stuck with his sister for a partner, or he had to let _me_ be his sister's partner. After a moment's hesitation, he shrugged. "Why not? You can partner with Franny."

"How come you get to be Fraser's partner?" she asked.

"You can't pair with Fraser because you two are the weaker players," I said, doing my best not to sound offensive.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, I know Ray's done a lot of card-playing—he just spent most of two years in Vegas. And I've seen Fraser's game."

"And you assume you're better than me because I'm a girl."

"No. I just figure you probably haven't spent a lot of time sitting around boring places like stakeouts, waiting for something to happen. It's just a matter of experience."

I was relieved to see her hackles going down. "I guess," she said.

Ray offered to deal first, and I had to give him kudos for his shuffling skills. I mean, I can shuffle, but I can't do that springy thing where you pop the deck back together after.

"You learn to do that in Vegas?" I asked him.

"Had to," he answered. "I saw some of my associates playing and all the fancy stuff they were doing, I knew I had to brush up a little. I was lucky they didn't try to deal me in the first night."

"What did you do?"

"I taught myself."

"Overnight? No way!"

"Calling me a liar, funny man?"

"No... just impressed."

"Well, I wasn't exactly expert at it by morning," Ray admitted. "But good enough that I could play a few rounds, deal a couple of times and say I was off my game and leave the table. Then I had several days before anyone tried to get me to play again, and by then I was pretty good at it. Almost gave myself blisters and ruined about eight packs of cards, but I got it."

"That's some dedication."

"Yeah... never thought my life would depend on fancy shuffling. What'll ya take?"

I picked up my five cards. "Regular rules?" I asked.

"Yeah," said Franny. "Aces are high, right? And, um... if you shoot the moon..."

"That's hearts," I said.

"You shoot the moon with hearts?"

"No, the game of hearts. You don't shoot the moon in poker."

"Oh."

Ray sighed. "Okay, listen. I'll say this once. After that, your partner can help you. If you got nothing, it's high card. A pair beats a high card. Two pair beats one pair. Three of a kind beats two pair. A straight beats three of a kind. A flush beats a straight. Full house beats a flush. Four of a kind beats a full house. Straight flush beats four of a kind, and royal flush beats everything. Got that?"

"Got it," Franny and Fraser said together, both looking a little glazed over and neither sounding convincing.

"It's a good thing lasagna takes a while to cook," I muttered.

Fraser brought a box of toothpicks to the table to use for currency. "What's the ante?" he asked.

"Let's keep it simple. No minimum."

"What's that mean?" asked Franny.

"It means as long as you bet _something,_ or raise _something,_ you're good. It's only if you fold that you're out. If you're down to your last toothpicks, we won't raise it above your total. When you put up the last ones, you're 'all in.'"

Fraser began divvying up the toothpicks.

"Let's just start and hope she catches up," said Ray.

Franny gave him a look that would have murdered him in cold blood, if looks could kill. "I'll be just fine, thanks. Play ball."

Ray rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he chuckled. "You know, you haven't changed a bit."

"Well good, 'cause there was nothing wrong with me before you left."

"What'll ya take?" he asked me again.

I looked over my cards again. I had one measly pair. "Three," I said, handing over my cards. He dealt me three more. They didn't improve my hand.

"Fraser?"

"Doesn't he have to bet first?" asked Franny.

"We're keeping it simple for you amateurs. We'll bet next time around. Fraser?"

After a lot of deliberation, Fraser also took three cards.

"Franny?"

She asked for three cards even quicker than I had, and from the tiny smirk on her face, I guessed she had gotten something good. Or at least that she believed she had. I hoped she knew what she was doing.

Ray looked at his own cards. "And the dealer takes... one." If he had a tell, I couldn't detect it yet. He seemed neither pleased nor disappointed with the new card he drew. "All right, whaddya say?" he asked me.

I didn't like my chances. I shoved one toothpick from my pile into the middle of the table.

Ray chuckled. "One toothpick. All right. How about you, Fraser?"

Fraser took a moment before putting in two of his own. "I see your toothpick, and I raise you one," he said.

"Ooo, big money," Ray mocked. "Franny?"

She licked her lips and counted out four toothpicks. "I see you and double it."

She still didn't sound like she knew what she was talking about, but she looked pretty happy. I hoped she had something.

"That's a little more like it," Ray said. He put out five of his own toothpicks. "I raise you one. Ray?"

"I fold," I said, leaning back in my chair.

"Boring. Fraser?"

Fraser shook his head. "I think Francesca's and your confidence suggest that at least one of you has a good hand..."

"Do you fold?"

After another moment's hesitation, he said, "Like a lawn chair."

Ray snorted.

"Hey, those things don't fold easy," I said.

"Easily," said Fraser.

I blinked. "Whatever."

"Now what happens?" asked Franny.

"Well, you can call, or you can raise it again," said Ray.

"Okay, I raise you two more."

Ray narrowed his eyes. "I see that and raise you one."

Franny hesitated just slightly. "And two again."

"I see that, too. Raise you one."

I was worried that sibling rivalry was going to make Franny get in over her head, but that was as far as it went.

"Okay, I call you out."

"Just say, 'I call,'" Ray corrected.

"Fine. I call."

He turned his cards over. "Two pair. Whatcha got?"

Franny laid down her cards. "I have three aces... do I win?"

Ray made a quiet sound of disgust. "Beginner's luck."

I smiled at her. "Hey, nice job, partner." I put up my hand and she high-fived me.

"What did you have?" I asked Fraser.

"A pair of eights," he answered.

I nodded. "You're starting to get it, but you don't need to talk out your reasons, okay? Keep the rest of us guessing."

"Ah, yes." He nodded to himself as if to reinforce my advice in his mind.

The next round, neither of our beginner-level players stayed in the betting long. Ray kept raising the stakes, and I started to wonder if he'd ever stop. I had three tens, and I knew how hard it was to put together a flush or a straight, let alone anything better. I still couldn't read him, though. He seemed cool as a cucumber. Of course, we were only playing for toothpicks, but still.

I nearly folded, but then I thought, _What the hell? They're only toothpicks, and even if we get up to his limit, I'll still have a couple leftover._ So I kept seeing his raise until he didn't have any extra to put in and he had to call. That son of a gun had been bluffing on a pair of threes!

"Wowee!" Franny whooped. "He creamed you!"

"Eh, he beat me," said Ray. "Just because his hand was more impressive than mine doesn't mean he beat me by a lot. He played the numbers game, took a gamble and it paid off. That's what poker's all about." He nodded at me. "Respect."

"He creamed you!" she said again. She put out both her hands for me to slap.

After I gave her ten, I told Ray, "I seriously couldn't tell if you were bluffing."

"I know." It seemed like he was proud enough of himself that he didn't mind losing.

Fraser spotted Ray a few toothpicks and we played a few more rounds. Ray couldn't recover much after losing so heavily, but he didn't seem to mind that much, either. The more we could smell the lasagna in the air, the better everyone's mood got. Once, Franny thought Fraser asked a question about what beat what to make us think he had a really good hand, but Ray and I knew that Fraser didn't have that level of deception in him. We folded and I advised Franny to do the same. She wouldn't at first, but when Fraser raised the stakes again, she decided to listen to me. Sure enough, Fraser's hand beat all of ours.

A little later, the lasagna came out of the oven and we started eating salad while it cooled.

"Do you want to sit down for a while?" Franny asked Fraser. He and Ray had been standing for our poker game, since there were only two chairs.

"Oh..." I tilted my head back. "I'm an idiot."

"He finally realized it," Franny said, and I have to admit, her deadpan was pretty good.

I got up. "I'll go grab a couple stools from my place."

"I'll give you a hand," Ray said.

"I can get 'em, but... come if you want to."

He followed me across the hall and I let him in. "It's kind of a mess," I said.

As soon as we were inside, he said, "I need to smoke, and I don't have an excuse."

"Right... uh..." I went into my living area and opened a window. "Here. Light up. I'll think of something."

He nodded and did as I said.

I went to my kitchen area where the stools were, thinking hard as I went. "Um... shoot." I looked around at everything, hoping some reason for delay would jump out at me. I looked at the dishes in the cabinet. They were ones my mom had given me when I first moved out. I didn't use them because I knew I'd break them. Besides, they looked kind of pretty in there... I pictured myself offering the dishes to Fraser as a housewarming gift. I shook my head. Taking those over wouldn't delay us enough. It wasn't worth it.

Suddenly, I remembered the dream catcher. "Fraser made you a dream catcher," I said, realizing for the first time that all that crap Fraser had told me about acquiring the eagle feathers actually held some significance: He must have started working on it before he met me. It had been intended for the other Ray to begin with.

"What? Did you say a dream catcher?"

"Uh-huh."

"One of those Indian spider webs with feathers and beads and stuff?"

"Yeah. He made it for your birthday... and he gave it to me. A year ago last September."

"Oh." Ray frowned as he took a drag on his foreign cigarette. "You know... he's kinda the king of impractical gifts."

I grinned. "Yeah, I know. Hang on. I'll see if I can find it."

It took me at least five minutes, but I finally found it in a desk drawer with some other junk. "It's a little worse for wear," I said. "I may or may not have used it as a Frisbee."

"Ha." He took it and turned it around in one hand. "I wonder how long it took him to make this."

"Way too long for the gratitude I showed him," I said sheepishly. "Anyway, he meant it for you, so... it's yours if you want it."

He looked at the dream catcher a while longer before saying, "It's pretty cool. And it's a decent excuse. So, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem." It was stupid, because I hadn't so much as looked at the thing in like a year, but now I didn't like giving it up. But if it kept Fraser and Franny happy, it was worth it.

I let him have some mouthwash before we went back across the hall. I felt bad for leaving Fraser alone with Franny for so long, but it couldn't be helped. He seemed OK... but also glad to see us.

"Where'd you go to get those stools, Canada?" Franny asked.

"Sorry," I said. "I was telling Ray about that dream catcher Fraser made for me, and then I decided to show it to him, and I couldn't find it at first." All of that was pretty much true.

"Ah, I wondered where it had gotten to," Fraser commented.

"I told Ray he could have it... since you really made it for him."

Fraser looked a little blind-sided for a second, and I worried I'd made a mistake, but then he smiled at Ray and said, "Well, yes. That is true."

* * *

 _More soon. Favorite, follow, share, review! ~Ray K.  
_


	18. An Edge

_The conclusion of the apartment-warming party.  
_

 _Thanks for keeping up with the story._

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: An Edge

Diefenbaker, who had been lying on the living room carpet while we played poker, was now sitting beside Franny. I suspected he thought she was most likely to share her food. Fraser looked sternly at him as he put a stool at his place at the table.

"You behave yourself," I heard him say.

"Ehh..." came from Dief, sounding like a suspect saying "I don't know what you're talking about."

I got back to my salad while Ray grabbed a chunk of garlic bread and Fraser brought over the lasagna. While he was serving that, Ray's phone rang.

Ray sighed and wiped his fingers off on a cloth napkin (yeah, who uses cloth napkins anymore?). He answered the phone. "Yello. Lieutenant!" He lowered his voice to a mutter. "You couldn't have called ten minutes ago?"

I ducked my head to hide my smile. A call from Welsh would have been the perfect cover for taking a smoke.

Ray pushed his stool back and wandered into Fraser's living area. "Yeah. That's right... Okay... Yes, sir... I understand. Thank you, sir. I'll see you Monday." He ended the call and returned to the table.

"What did Welsh have to say?" I asked.

Ray glanced at Franny before answering me. "They found the middle man."

"What middle man?" asked Franny.

"The one who arranged the kidnapping for De Luca. Tanner named him. We need to try to get Andy Tate to corroborate his story. If we do that, we may be able to get Antonio Passero—that's the middle man—to give up De Luca."

"Where is Antonio... whoever?" I asked.

"They're sending him our way this weekend, just like De Luca. Since he's not as directly involved as the others, Welsh is going to let me talk to him. But he wants someone else in the room."

"That can be me if you want," I offered.

He looked at me thoughtfully. "I dunno... do you know how to play good cop?"

"Won't it be safer if you're the good cop?"

"He'll never buy that. Trust me; I know this guy."

"I guess I can do it, then. I'm versatile."

Ray took a bite of lasagna. "Oh, wow... this is really good, Benny."

"Thank you kindly, Ray," Fraser replied. "And thank you for the recipe, Francesca."

Franny chewed thoughtfully. "Something's different. You put in extra mushrooms, right?"

"I thought it was worth the risk."

"Mm, well it turned out great for your first try."

I agreed with the others. My cooking skills are... not so much skills as struggles. I can fry eggs and make toast... pancakes if I'm feeling really industrious. Simple stuff like that. But most of what I eat comes out of a single can or package. That or I go out to eat or bring back takeout. The only time I got real home cooking while impersonating Ray Vecchio was when I was at his house with his family, or when my mom foisted a casserole on me.

Crap, my mom. I hadn't talked to my parents since Fraser and I got back from Canada. In fact... they might not even _know_ I was back.

We were well into our dinner when someone knocking at the door made me forget about my parents again. I thought it was queer because the only people likely to drop in on Fraser at his new place were already in the room.

Fraser got up and went to the door. "Oh, Miz Tate," he said. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you... oh, I didn't know you had company," she said, seeing us.

"And now I have more," he said hospitably. I swear, if it had been the big, bad wolf, he'd have invited him in, too.

"Oh, thank you but... it can wait," she said.

I knew the look on her face. It was the look of someone putting on a brave face and planning to run somewhere safe to cry. I pushed back my chair and joined her and Fraser by the door. "What's wrong?" I asked.

She gave a little whimper and looked down. "Well... it's my son."

"You have a son?"

"Yes... Andrew. He's... he's in jail!" She covered her face with her hands.

"Um..."

"I'm very sorry, Miz Tate," Fraser said with his perfect bedside manner. "It must be extremely hard for you."

Franny appeared with a tissue, which the landlady gratefully accepted.

"I... I know you can't discuss it," she said looking at me. "The police aren't supposed to talk about 'ongoing investigations.' I watch _Cops,"_ she added.

"I see."

"But you... you're not on the case, right? But you know about things?"

If I couldn't see how upset she was, I'd have been tempted to make a smart comment at that point. Fraser knew about too many things for his own good. Then I thought about exactly what she'd said. "Wait, what case?"

"The attempted kidnapping," Fraser said. "Our wheel man, Andy Tate, is her son."

My eyes got big. "Whoa... I didn't realize." She didn't look old enough to be his mom.

Now Ray joined us. "Of _course_ our suspect is your landlady's son!" he exclaimed. "Why not?"

I knew what he meant. In fact, I'm amazed it didn't occur to me right then that my life was a TV show. There were just too many coincidences.

"Why don't you come and sit down," Fraser told her, putting an arm around her.

"Yeah, take my chair," I said, going to turn it around for her.

"Thank you... you're such sweet things," she said, breaking into a new round of tears.

As she started telling us about her son—how he was really a good boy, but he'd made some bad choices, blah blah blah—I saw Ray sneak back to his place at the table to keep eating while she talked. I couldn't blame him. I probably would have done the same thing if she hadn't been sitting in my chair.

"Have you gone to see him?" Fraser asked.

"His lawyer said... said he didn't want to see me!" she sobbed.

Ray shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we can't make him see you if he doesn't want to. He's got rights... not many, but he's got 'em."

"But there must be something we can do," Fraser said, patting Ms. Tate's hand. "Perhaps I can try having a word with him."

I cringed. Fraser had a way of getting people's hopes up. Not that he didn't come through for them, but I kept waiting for the time when he wouldn't be able to do it. It would kill whoever he was trying to help. Might break him, too.

"Oh, would you?" she asked. "That would mean so much to me... just to know why he won't see me. And to tell him that whatever happens, we can work it out." She blew her nose.

"First, of course, he will have to agree to see _me,"_ Fraser told her. "But if he will, I'll do my best."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you so much!"

"Not at'all. Now, would you care to stay and have dinner with us?"

"Oh, no." She got up and shoved the used tissue into her pocket. "Thank you, but I've already eaten. I feel a little better now. You're an angel, officer Fraser."

"It's constable, ma'am. But you may call me Benton if you prefer."

She gave him a messy smile, like she might break down again. "All right," she sniffed. "Tell me as soon as you've heard anything."

"I will." He walked her to the door and saw her out.

"Well, that beats everything," Ray said once the door was closed. "I piss off a guy in Vegas, he has his man hire a couple of goons, and one of 'em is the son of your landlady." He shook his head. "This crap only happens around you, Fraser."

"Hey, maybe this gives us an edge," I said, turning my chair back around so I could finish my lasagna.

"Yeah," said Franny. "If we talk to him about his mom, he might give in. I almost wanna try interrogating him myself!"

Ray guffawed. "You? Interrogate a suspect?"

"Uh..." I had heard about Franny's attempts in the interview room, and I knew a bad idea when I heard one. "No, I don't think so, Franny."

"I said 'almost,'" she reminded me. "But I can watch, right?"

"I guess." I glanced at Ray.

He looked like he didn't like it, but then he seemed to soften up. "I guess if you really want to."

"Think we can talk to him tomorrow?"

"I think so, as long as Welsh okays it."

I nodded. I had been planning to help Fraser arrange his new living room furniture the next morning, not head into work on a Saturday. But I knew how important it was to get this out of the way before De Luca and his stooge got to Chicago. "Give me a call in the morning."

"All right."

We fell silent for a little while, until Franny said, "Well, that was fun. Fraze, I'll have some more of that garlic bread if you don't mind."

Fraser gave himself a little shake to refocus on the present and passed the bread to her with a small smile. "Francesca, I was wondering, and I'm sure Diefenbaker has been too... we haven't seen Ante around."

Ante, the poodle. I had forgotten all about her. Dief obviously hadn't. He put his head in Franny's lap and looked up at her with pitiful eyes.

"Oh, well, um..." Franny took a drink. "See, while you were away, Ante spent a little while pining, you know, for... someone."

Dief lifted his head.

"...And I wasn't sure what to do, and Welsh said he didn't want her at the station all the time. Of course, I mentioned you and Dief, and he just said something about Sergeant Prescott of the Yukon..."

"Uh, I believe you mean Sergeant _Preston,"_ Fraser corrected.

"Right. Anyway, I met this lady who can talk to dogs, and she said Ante missed being around other purebreds."

"Whoa, what do you mean, 'talk to dogs'?" I asked.

"You know—like Fraser talks to Dief. She helped me find this lady who breeds and shows poodles _professionally."_ She raised her eyebrows like that was the coolest revelation ever. "Once Ante got in with her own kind, she started holding her head higher, prancing around... Michelle—that's the breeder—she said if she could track down Ante's pedigree, she'd make a great show dog. So, I sold her for a hundred bucks... just a formality, because she's priceless, of course, and she said I'm welcome to visit anytime."

Fraser smiled. "It sounds like a happy ending for all concerned."

Dief whined.

"Well... almost."

Franny fondled Dief's ears. "Sorry, sweetie, but it never would have worked between you two... that's showbiz, you know. She's gonna be a star."

Dief sighed and padded off to Fraser's bedroom.

* * *

Ray and Franny hung around until about ten and then said their goodbyes, congratulating Fraser on the new place on their way out. I knew the clean-up was gonna be a beast, so I stayed to help out, much as I disliked the idea.

Fraser covered the lasagna with foil and put it in the fridge while I gathered the dishes, scraping food scraps onto one plate for Dief. This part had always kind of grossed me out, but it was better feeding it to the wolf than dumping it into the trash.

"Here you go, buddy," I said, setting the plate in front of Dief.

He made a satisfied little sound like "Hm" and dug in, tail wagging.

I patted his side and went to move the dishes into the sink.

Fraser was sealing the few remaining chunks of garlic bread in a bag. "Thank you for your help," he said. "You don't have to stay."

I shrugged. "Least I can do, since I probably won't be here when your couch and chair get here tomorrow." I ran the water until it was hot and put the plug in the sink.

"Well, you can try them out when you get back."

"You not working tomorrow?"

"Not unless Tate decides to talk to me, or the inspector decides he can't order a pizza for himself."

I laughed. "How you liking the new inspector?"

"He seems to be a fair man."

"Kinda wish you could have stuck with the devil you know?"

He tilted his head from side to side, and I knew he didn't like me talking about Inspector Thatcher that way, but he also knew it was just an expression. "It might have been easier in some ways if she had stayed. But her heart was in Toronto."

 _What about yours?_ I wondered. The apartment, the furniture... it seemed to indicate that he planned to stay a while, but how long, I didn't know. "Oh, by the way, what was it Lam wanted to talk to you about? You know, 'at your convenience?'"

"That, I'll probably learn after the furniture arrives. It wasn't convenient for me to see him today, since I had to prepare for tonight."

"Oh. Hope you're not in trouble."

He shook his head. "I'm sure it wasn't urgent, or he never would have said to come at my convenience in the first place."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Let me know."

"I will."

Once he had put the salad away, he grabbed a clean towel and dried the clean dishes as I handed them to him.

"Where'd you find the dishes?" I asked, noticing that the forks did not seem to come from one set.

"The second-hand store."

I smiled. "Getting to like it, huh?"

"It is a good resource."

"Don't they have them in Canada?"

"Of course. I just didn't stay in one place long enough to become very familiar with them."

"Mm." It's weird, but I was finding dish-washing to be less of a chore than usual. Something about helping someone else with _their_ dishes, along with having someone else to do the drying and putting away, made it seem almost fun. We finished in about fifteen minutes.

Fraser handed me another towel to dry my hands on; I noticed that the towels were Christmas-patterned... undoubtedly also from the second-hand store. "Thank you kindly, Ray," he said.

"No problem, buddy. Just, uh... don't get used to it." I didn't know if the almost-fun thing was normal, or if the novelty would wear off and it would get to be a pain.

"Understood."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Comments or questions are welcome. If you have a question, please make sure you're signed in so we can send you a pm. Otherwise we'll have to answer you in the chapter notes (like this right here) or by posting our own comment on the chapter, which is weird. ~Ray K.  
_


	19. Bad Cop, Worse Cop

_More than ninety people have checked out this story... one of you has to know someone in Canada that you can pass it on to, right?  
_

 _Enjoy. ~Ray K._

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Bad Cop, Worse Cop

The next morning, I brewed a pot of coffee while I did a little de-cluttering. Seeing how bare and spotless Fraser's apartment was made me feel like mine was kind of a wreck. But once I had cleared off my coffee table and gotten rid of a couple cobwebs in the corners, I decided that was enough for one day. No sense in overdoing it and losing my motivation—that could set me back into a rut of sloppiness for a week or more.

I checked to see if I had any candy to throw into my coffee. I never just drink it black, even when I bother to brew it instead of making the instant kind. I had some milk that actually wasn't sour, and since I didn't find any candy I threw in some hot cocoa mix. It wasn't hot chocolate weather anymore, and if I didn't use it this way, it would probably just sit in the cupboard all summer.

I sat down with my coffee... mocha now, I guess... and some toast and started scanning the paper. There was nothing on De Luca's arraignment yet, but I was guessing there would be, come Monday. Weirdly enough, there was something on our other case. The papers were eager to connect it with the cold case we had dug up, speculating on whether it was the same killer or a copycat, even though we still hadn't made up our minds whether we thought the two cases were truly related. _This reporter has a lot of nerve,_ I thought. I glanced at the biline. _MacKenzie King._ The name rang a bell. I was sure it was one I'd seen while reading up on Ray's file in order to be able to impersonate him. It wasn't a very important name, though. Barely mentioned in his file. I closed my eyes, trying to remember.

The phone rang and the struggle to remember flew away. I got up and picked up my landline. "Kowalski."

"Hey," said Ray's voice. "I talked to Welsh about interviewing Tate again. We got him at ten-thirty."

I looked at the clock. It was just after nine. "Okay, I'll be there. Is Franny coming?"

I heard him sigh. "Yeah. I promised her she could. Why did I do that?"

I smiled a little. "Because you're trying to let her make her own decisions?" I suggested.

"Nah, that couldn't be it."

"Ha. Well, I'll see you there. Oh! Hey, does the name MacKenzie King mean anything to you?"

A pause. Then, _"Why?"_

Oo. It did. "She... or he... wrote an article about our old case/new case. They're trying to make it sound like there's a definite connection."

"Eh, she's an investigative reporter... or at least, that's what she likes to call herself. I'd call her a fiction writer who dabbles in history. But she did kinda help save Benny and his neighbors from being evicted, so I can't write her off completely. She thought he was a dirty cop when she first met him."

It came back to me then. "Oh, yeah." I laughed. "Of all the people to be on the take."

"Yeah, seriously. Is that all, though? She wrote a story?"

"Yeah."

"She hasn't tried to contact you?"

"No. I just wanted to place the name."

"You wouldn't have had that problem if you and Fraser hadn't been away so long. When I came back and she got wind of the undercover job... lemme tell you, it's just a damn good thing she had no clue when I was still under, because she'd have gotten me killed. No question about it. I saved some of the more colorful stuff she wrote, if you wanna see sometime."

"Okay. Anyway..."

"Oh, Ray... one more thing," he said. He sounded like he was about to give me bad news.

I braced myself. "Yeah?"

"Being as this is turning into a high-profile case, Welsh thinks we need to have an ASA here. It doesn't have to be Stella. I can get someone else..."

I squeezed my eyes shut tight. "No," I made myself say. "She'll be easiest to get hold of quickly. Go ahead and call her."

"You sure?"

 _No._ "Yes."

"All right. See you soon."

"Mhm." I hung up the phone. And slammed my fist down on the counter. Which hurt. "Damn it," I muttered to myself.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see Stella. I actually really did want to see her, and that was the problem. I shouldn't see her. I just screw everything up when I'm around her. I keep telling myself that we're done and I should just let go already, but then I see her again and I start getting these stupid ideas, like maybe I can change, or maybe _she'll_ change, enough that we can work again. Because we used to work. Or maybe if I do something good enough, or smart enough, or I'm charming enough, or hell, just because she _misses_ me enough, then she'll give me another shot.

Because God knows if she whistled, I'd come running like a cocker spaniel at a field trial. I could even be seeing someone else, and it wouldn't matter. That thought scared me. The thought that I might meet someone else, start to find out it could work with someone else, finally be _happy_ again, and then _that_ would be the moment I had changed enough for her. She'd come back into my life and I'd screw up someone else's because I'm so pathetically dependent on her. Like she defines me.

Since I started working with Fraser, I've started to feel more sure of who I am. I'm a cop, and in spite of how much complaining I do, I actually like being able to say that I am one. It's not trying to make up for an embarrassing moment as a kid anymore. And I'm trying hard not to be who I am for Stella or anyone else, but that doesn't come easily to me. What I latched onto for the time being was that Fraser was the best damn person I knew. If I tried to be the best friend I could to him, it would definitely make me a better person in the long run. It was the best I could do.

I closed my eyes, took a long, slow breath as I tilted my head back and then let it all out. When I opened my eyes, I was back in my apartment, without Stella suffocating me. I took a drink of my coffee and forced myself into self-therapy mode.

Supposing Fraser had this ex... well, he did. Victoria. The one no one ever talked about. So, suppose Fraser needed some information, and she was the best source he was likely to find. What would he do? He would see her, of course. He would arrange to meet her somewhere safe, somewhere she couldn't possibly set up anything to screw him over, but also somewhere she wouldn't feel threatened. He would be polite to her. Respectful. Because even though she broke his heart, he still cared about her and wished her no harm.

I drank some more coffee, tasting the chocolate more as I got close to the bottom of the mug. It was just another day, another interrogation, more paperwork. And Stella would be there. No big deal.

* * *

I got to the precinct just before 10:30. Tate had already been brought over from lockup and had his lawyer in the interview room with him. Ray, Franny and Stella were in front of the one-way glass.

"Boy, he looks kind of pathetic up close," Franny said as I joined them. "I can't believe that's the scumbag who grabbed me."

"Yeah, not so scary now, huh?" I was a little distracted. "Good morning, Stella," I said, doing my best to filter everything other than politeness out of my voice.

She wasn't used to my greeting her without anything else attached, and she looked at me kind of suspiciously before answering, "Good morning, Ray."

I looked at the other Ray. "So, how are we playing this?" I asked.

"You're Mister Nice Guy," he said. "You and State's Attorney Kowalski will be at the table, and I'll stay in the background until you need me."

"It's just _assistant_ state's attorney, Detective Vecchio," Stella put in. "I believe I've told you that."

He knew damn well what it was—he'd called her an ADA when he talked to me on the phone. But I kept quiet.

"Well, while we're being specific," Ray answered, "the lieutenant officially made me a sergeant on paper. Means I get to be lead detective on my cases and pick who I work with."

Franny nudged forward a little, forcing the two of them slightly further apart. _"Nobody_ calls him 'sergeant,'" she said flatly.

I loved her for that.

"Well, I think we should get to it," Stella said, breaking up the awkward silence.

Ray, Stella and I went around to the interview room door and filed inside. Ray introduced himself and then the two of us before stepping back to let me handle the Q and A.

After I made it clear that the outcome we hoped for was that Tate would change his mind and be more helpful, he made it clear that he hadn't changed his mind at all.

"You're not offering me anything new," he said. "Why are we even here?"

"Some new information came to light, Mister Tate," I said. "See, I have this friend. He's a Mountie. He and I live in the same building."

He gawked at me. "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked.

"I was about to tell you. No one taught you to wait your turn at the drinking fountain, did they? But speaking of people who should have taught you better, that building, the one the Mountie and I live in, it happens to be run by a Miz Ida Tate. Recognize the name?"

His look of confusion turned to disgust. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"I assure you, I do not kid. Only last night, in fact, Miz Tate came to my friend and begged him on behalf of her son—of whom she's very fond, by the way—to speak to him and learn, A, why he won't see her, B, whether he's really guilty of any serious crime, and C, why he won't make his (and her) life a little easier and cooperate with the authorities. Now, you don't have to talk to my friend the Mountie, since he has no jurisdiction in this precinct. On the other hand, you don't have to worry about him slapping any charges on you either. Talking to a Mountie's kinda like talking to a priest."

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration," Stella put in. "Please, don't assume that Constable Fraser would not be obligated to report any confessions made to him."

I gritted my teeth. She had interrupted, thrown me off my stride, and kind of undermined me in front of the suspect. I forced myself not to sigh or roll my eyes. "Really, we're all here today because of your mom, Andrew."

He looked like he really didn't like me using his full first name. But I knew it gave me some credibility, because that's what his mom called him.

"You've done a little bit of time before, gotten into plenty of trouble. Drug possession, petty theft... and that was before this stuff you're mixed up in now. You know, I'd written you off as a completely bad egg until I realized who your mother was. So now I'm thinkin'... maybe there's more to the story. Maybe you'd like a chance to make things right with that sweet lady. It's all up to you, man."

I sat back a little so Stella would know I was done for the moment.

"Detective Vecchio and I have gone over your case together," Stella said, opening the folder she had brought along. "He's outlined what he wants from you, and I've listed what the state can offer you in return." She turned the folder around and pushed it toward Tate and his lawyer.

The lawyer paid more attention to the file than Tate did. He looked at his client. "Essentially, they want you to back up Tanner's story and name the man who hired you," he said, easily dumbing down the legal jargon. "In exchange, you'll get a light sentence for the auto theft and attempted kidnapping." He looked up. "What about the charge of resisting arrest?"

"That, we can't help with," Ray said, coming over to the table. "We get information about this case, he gets leniency on this case. But refusing to cooperate—that was a bad decision he doesn't have anything to trade for."

 _"If_ I did what you say I did," Tate started.

"We know you did," Ray cut him off. "Tanner named you. You were caught in the vicinity of the crime and you tried to run. You're guilty as sin, and anyone will see it that way." His voice was rising in an angry tone. "The girl you grabbed smelled the steering wheel of the car you stole on your glove when you covered her mouth with your hand! Do you often treat women that way? Huh?"

Tate was trying to fake a surprised look. "Come on... No," he stammered while Ray yelled at him and his lawyer tried to protest. "I don't... I didn't... I don't know what that bitch told you—"

I don't know how it happened, because I had been telling myself for the last hour to stay calm. And it had been working. I'd been polite to Stella. I'd been the good cop in this scenario, and done a pretty good job. But when he called Franny a bitch, and me knowing she was standing behind the glass, hearing it... I lost my head. There's no other way to say it. I got up before I knew I was doing it, and my fist connected with Tate's chin. I heard my chair crash onto the floor behind me, and then felt Ray pulling me back. Heard him swearing at me.

I let him pull me away from the table. I was kind of in shock, myself. I knew I'd screwed up. In every way, on every level.

"Outside!" Ray shouted at me, pointing at the door.

I fled. Yeah, that's the perfect word. I closed the door behind me, only then feeling the pain in my right hand. I rubbed it with my left. Thank God I'd never been a pro boxer... the law might call my hands deadly weapons, and I could be looking at a really serious assault charge.

Franny came around the corner and looked at me kind of shyly.

"Hey... sorry," I said quietly. "I really screwed up in there."

She looked at my hands. "You okay?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Serves me right. I knew better than that. I'm never getting near Tate again. I might be off the case."

"You can't be off the case—you're a fabricated witness, right?"

"Material. The term is 'material witness.' I can be a witness without being allowed to investigate." I sighed out another little laugh. "I guess now Tate has something to trade for his resisting arrest charge."

Franny cracked up. "I guess so. If it helps, I think it was worth it."

"That definitely helps." I put an arm around her and walked her back to the glass to watch whatever came next.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Pitter-patter, let's get atter—please leave a comment before you hurry on your way... ~Ray K.  
_


	20. Cut-Throat

_I can't believe how long this got. I didn't think it would take too long to sum up what happened over the course of a few weeks, but... I guess a lot of details I'd forgotten about turned out to be important. Sorry/not sorry, as people tend to say in this world and this time.  
_

 _Thanks for two new reviews Ne'ith5 and Nutmeg9cat! I was starting to think people were just clicking the story and not actually reading it before going somewhere else. Hope you like the new chapter._

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Cut-Throat

"You don't have to yell at me," I told Ray as we got together in the bullpen. "I've been yelling at myself for the last ten minutes. I know what I did was stupid."

"I can confirm that," Franny said, and I was pretty sure she meant that I'd been yelling at myself, not that I was stupid. Pretty sure.

"What were you thinking?" Stella asked.

"Did I not just explain that I _wasn't_ thinking?" I snapped. Then I hung my head. "I'm sorry."

Ray rubbed his hands together like it helped him gather his thoughts. "Okay, the good news is, he agreed to talk to Fraser. I think he knows that an accusation of police brutality gives him some leverage, especially since it was witnessed by an assistant state's attorney. So, as long as Benny doesn't screw this up, I think he'll come around and give us what we want."

"When's he seeing Fraser?"

"Today, if he has time. We gotta move."

I looked at my watch. Fraser was probably putting his new furniture in place at that moment. "He doesn't have a phone installed yet... I'll call the consulate to see if he's been there yet; he was going to stop by. If not, I'll try to catch him at the apartment."

"Okay, you do that. And then you butt out, okay? I'm about ninety-five percent sure Welsh is gonna want to keep your shield for a while because of this."

I winced. "I know. I really didn't mean to do it... I just lost my head."

Ray put a hand on my shoulder. "Tell you the truth... if you hadn't o' clocked him, I probably would have. So it's better this way, in the long run."

I perked up a little and went to my desk to call the consulate. Like I figured, Fraser hadn't been there yet. "I'm going to try the apartment," I said, grabbing my jacket. My hand was starting to throb.

"I'm going back to the office, but I'll have my cell phone on me," said Stella. "Just call if you need me back here."

"Will do," said Ray.

"Hey, Tate's fine, right?" I asked, pausing in the hall. "I didn't do serious damage or anything?"

"Nah," said Ray. "He boo-hoo'd a lot, but he seemed to be talking just fine."

"Good... Hope I didn't break my hand."

"Heh. That's what you get, Rocky."

I fell into step with Stella as we both made our way toward the exit. I wasn't eager to walk with her, but it seemed like it would be more awkward not to, since we were already near each other and heading the same way.

She didn't say anything until we got to the outer door.

"What exactly was it... that made you snap?" she asked.

I sighed. "I hear these lowlifes talk trash about people all the time, but... I knew Francesca could hear him, and that pissed me off. He didn't know it, but... I guess I didn't want Franny to think no one was in her corner, that we'd just let him talk about her that way. I don't know. I didn't give myself time to think. And I know that's something I need to work on," I added the last part quickly.

"I guess knowing it is a good first step."

We stood there outside for a few seconds. She moved to leave.

"Stella."

She looked back at me like she was worried I was going to make a scene.

"I'm sorry," I said. "For losing it in there, and... because I've been kind of obnoxious to you. You've said you just want to move on, and I'm not making it any easier. So, I'm going to try—really hard—to just... treat you how you want to be treated. My feelings aren't gonna go away. But they're not your problem."

She took her time answering, something she was clearly much better at than I was, choosing her words. "Thank you," she said finally, and she put her hand on my arm. "I think there's hope that we can get back to being good friends."

My throat got really tight, so I just nodded, looking at the ground.

She gave my arm a little squeeze and let go. "I'll see you," she said. Then she was gone.

Then I had to have a serious wrestling match with my stupid emotions on the way home. The only reason that had gone well was because I'd put up the white flag. This didn't mean she was opening up to getting back together. Friends, she had said. That was all she wanted from me. Being her friend was good. I should be happy with that. It was definitely better than whatever the hell we had been for the last couple of years.

I took a deep breath and tried to blow all the crappy feelings out with it. If it were Fraser, he'd stoically give the situation a nod and go on with his life. Stella wanted to be friends. That's good, he would say to himself. Everything turned out just fine. I nodded to myself, trying to do what I had just pictured my friend doing.

I rolled into my parking space and sat there for a minute, wishing I could turn my feelings off like Fraser appeared to do so often. I knew he couldn't really just flick a switch, but compared to me, it looked like that.

Someone tapped on the passenger side window. Fraser.

I put the window down. "Hey," I said, forcing a smile.

"Hello. I was about to catch a bus to the consulate."

"Can that wait a little longer? Tate agreed to talk to you. I can drive you back over there."

"Yes, I suppose I can do that first. I take it the interview went well, then?"

I searched for a tactful way to answer while he got in and fastened his seatbelt. "Kinda. We got the result we wanted, anyway. But I'm probably going to be suspended."

"Oh, dear... you kicked him in the head, didn't you?"

I snorted. "No, I did not kick him in the head. But... I hit him."

"Oh, dear."

"Yeah. 'Oh, moose' is more like it."

* * *

Tate insisted on talking to Fraser alone, and Ray wouldn't even let me observe.

"I probably shouldn't let you be in the building," he told me. "But I'll leave that up to Welsh on Monday. Just do me a favor and don't let Tate see you."

"I'm staying at my desk until you tell me he's gone back to lockup," I said meekly.

Franny gave me a sympathetic look. "I'll let you know if you miss anything good," she told me before following her brother out of the bullpen.

Fraser slapped me on the back and followed the others. There was nothing to do but go back to my case notes.

I looked at images of serrated knives. It's weird now that I think about it, but most combat-type knives aren't serrated. Neither are most of the pocket knives I've seen. I started to ponder that. Why not serrate a knife if you're going to make one at all? Serration makes it slice more easily, right? Does more damage that way. That's why steak knives are serrated. And yet, a lot of carving knives aren't. Why?

Come to think of it, every time I'd ever heard about someone having their throat cut, it was with some slim, straight knife or razor. So, why did our killer choose a serrated knife? Was it just whatever was lying around? Or was the new killer doing it just to copy the old killer, who had his own reason?

"How do you sharpen a serrated knife?" I thought aloud. I suddenly got a vague image in my head of my dad using some metal thingy to sharpen my mom's kitchen knives. I frowned. Was I just going down pointless rabbit trails, or was there a clue here? Fraser would know.

After a while, I heard the door open and Ray was calling back the transport guards to move Tate back to his holding cell. I wanted to jump up and go out to the hall, but I kept my seat. Finally, the others came back to the bullpen.

"So?" I asked.

Ray smiled. "Worked him like a champ," he reported, patting Fraser's shoulder.

"Most people have a tender spot for their mothers," Fraser said modestly.

"Even thugs, I guess," said Franny. "Seems like this guy figured his mom just wanted to chew him out for disgracing himself and abandoning her, but now that he knows she's really worried about him, he wants to see her."

"I'm going to try to arrange it soon," Ray said. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Shouldn't we wait until all the court stuff is out of the way?" I asked. "What if he sees his mom and then pulls out of the deal?"

"I don't think he'll do that," said Fraser.

I was sure he was sure, but I wasn't sure he was right.

"I doubt he'll cooperate if he doesn't get to see her first," said Ray.

That sounded more likely than the crook having a sense of honor. "Yeah, you're probably right. I hope it works out, for Miz Tate's sake. She seems pretty nice."

"Too nice to have a son like that," Franny agreed. "His father must have been a piece of... work." She looked around like she was wondering if we'd caught that she had been going to say something else.

Yeah, we caught that, with the possible exception of Fraser. But he was probably the one she didn't want to catch it, anyway.

* * *

"So, you want a ride to the consulate?" I asked Fraser as we walked outside.

"I had planned to walk," he answered.

"Well, Ray told me to stay out of the office for now, and I don't have any other plans."

"In that case, I accept your offer."

We got into the GTO and I started the engine.

"Hey, I was looking into that other case we're working on—the slit throat. It was a serrated knife."

"That's unusual."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, but I don't know why. Why does it matter what kind of knife you use?"

"The throat is a very delicate area. It has a lot of fine veins and capillaries. A straight blade can do a lot of damage, even if you want to cut deep. I suppose, if you wanted to sever the head completely from the neck, a serrated knife would do the job more efficiently..."

"No," I said quickly, wanting to stop the flood of grisly images Fraser was conjuring up. "No, this was just a cut throat. It wasn't all one cut, though. Like... you know, usually you expect it to be like this." I did the cartoony miming of slitting my own throat with my index finger. "But this guy did like a one, two." I slashed my index finger along one side of my throat and then the other, making a V.

"It was an experienced killer, Ray," Fraser said immediately. "The crime was not personal."

"Whoa, you're saying it's a serial killer?"

"Not necessarily. But it was someone who has practiced, or at least studied, how to kill efficiently."

"How is two cuts more efficient than one?"

"It's not a more efficient action, but it does make sure of more efficient blood draining."

I grimaced and asked, even though I hated to, "How's it do that?" The consulate wasn't far from the precinct, and I was pulling up in front of it. Constable Edwards was standing guard. I'd barely met him before, and I barely registered his presence now.

"Well, I'll show you," Fraser offered.

 _Only Fraser,_ I thought to myself. _"Let me show you the best way to cut a throat. It'll be fun..._ _"_

We got out of the car and he came around to my side. "Now, suppose you manage to take your victim by surprise," he said, turning me toward the car so I could see our reflections in the window. "An amateur would be anxious about getting good access to the throat, and would probably tilt the victim's head back, like so." He put his right arm over my collar bone and tilted my chin back with his left hand.

If I didn't trust Fraser so much, I'd have totally freaked out. Instead, I looked down at our reflections. "What's wrong with that?" I asked.

"Well, in so-doing, you would coax the Adam's apple forward, drawing a lot of the crucial arteries into the hollows between the windpipe, lymph nodes and muscle groups." He traced his finger along my neck, and I could feel that it sort of bumped over some places. "Your slash would likely miss a lot of them, causing the victim to bleed out more slowly."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"But, tilt the victim's head forward," he said, acting it out as he spoke, "and the veins are nicely bunched together in soft tissue. Use a serrated knife for good measure, and you ensure that the vessels won't be able to slow the blood flow with clots because the wounds are too ragged. Two quick slashes..." He drew his finger down one side of my neck and then the other. "...and it's all over in a few minutes at most."

"No chance of calling an ambulance?"

"Certainly not. If the victim had use of his hands, he would almost definitely be using them in an attempt to stem the tide."

I cringed at the thought. My neck was starting to sting in sympathy.

Just then, I heard a bell in the distance... it was chiming the half-hour. It was twelve-thirty.

Edwards came to life to my left and strode toward us. "Good afternoon, Constable Fraser," he said.

Instead of meeting him halfway, Fraser just turned me around with him like a dance partner. "Ah, Constable Edwards."

I suddenly felt weird about the fact that Fraser was poised to kill me. I cleared my nervous throat.

"Building camaraderie with your CPD liaison?" Edwards asked.

Now I felt downright embarrassed. "Oh, we were just..." Just what? The truth sounded weirder than whatever Edwards was thinking.

"Discussing various aspects of a murder investigation," Fraser finished for me in a pleasant, oblivious-sounding tone. He finally let go of me with a pat on the shoulder. "I understand the inspector wished to see me."

"Yes, he's been expecting you," Edwards replied. He nodded to me. "Detective."

I didn't know whether to nod back or what. I felt like he was kind of looking down on me. I decided to give him the street nod—jerk your head upward, rather than the usual chin-bob. It was much more like McQueen. "You want me to wait?" I asked Fraser. "We can get lunch."

"It is lunchtime, isn't it? Yes, if you would wait, I'd appreciate it. I'd like to take something home, though. Diefenbaker has been cooped up for a few hours."

I figured Dief was probably sprawling all over the new couch, having a grand ol' time, but I didn't want to say something like that in front of this uptight Mountie I didn't know. "Sure, that's fine," I said.

"You can come inside..."

I shook my head. "I'm good out here."

"Please send Constable Turnbull out to relieve me," said Edwards.

Fraser nodded. "I'll do that." He headed inside.

I meandered back to the car and opened the door, but I didn't get in. Just leaned on it. I grabbed my sunglasses from the visor and put them on. Edwards was watching me from the corner of his eye. I hadn't smoked since I was a teen, and I never, ever want to do it again, but at that moment I really wished I could light up and blow a smoke ring in his direction, just to see if he'd lose his poise.

* * *

 _I know what you're thinking: Edwards is the killer! But I'm not writing a soap opera here. True, my life is a TV show, but it's still my life. And sometimes fiction is less strange than real life. Anyway... Edwards doesn't play a very big role in the story. I just like to think of him as the Dewey of the consulate. A much more polite, cleaner-cut and better-dressed Dewey.  
_

 _You know what to do. Favorite, share, review. Look, I'm a poet. ~Ray K._


	21. Sandwiches And Cookies

_Thanks for continuing to read. This is a short one. I'll put more up soon. ~Ray K.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-one: Sandwiches And Cookies

Fraser didn't take long in the consulate. He said goodbye to Turnbull on the way out, even though he knew the other Mountie couldn't answer him.

"Deli sandwiches okay?" I asked, putting the car in gear.

"Yes, that's fine."

"What did the inspector want?"

"Well... he told me that my time spent with you in the North has been credited to my career as a furlough. Apparently, I was due at least one of those, anyway. I was also supposed to take bereavement leave after my father died..."

"But you worked the case instead," I finished.

"Yes. I have taken a couple of vacations—the time Ray Vecchio and I went to restore my father's cabin, and the time I spent up there right before your arrival at the 27th."

"Okay... so, you're out of vacation days, is that what you're saying?"

He shook his head. "Quite the opposite, it would seem. My previous superiors never minded much if I didn't take regular vacations, but the new inspector is apparently particular on the subject. He insists that I take at least two weeks' vacation before the year is out. One of them will be paid."

"Well, that's nice," I said. "You can do something fun. Or relaxing. Or, if you just can't stand not working, you can help us out at the station like usual."

"I suppose so." He didn't sound enthusiastic. "Now, isn't it time you talked to me about what's been bothering you for the last week or more?"

I was caught a little unprepared, and I'm sure it showed. I couldn't say nothing was bothering me. "Yeah... I guess."

"I won't insist if you aren't comfortable telling me."

Sometimes he was just too nice. "Fraser, you're the only one I _could_ talk to about this stuff. I just... don't know what good it will do."

"It won't do any harm, will it?"

Considering how awkward Francesca seemed to make Fraser feel sometimes, he'd probably be glad to hear that I was interested in her. "Probably not."

"You know, someone was fond of telling me that when you share something happy, you double the happiness. When you share something difficult, you cut the difficulty in half."

"Is that an Inuit saying?"

He shook his head. "My grandmother."

"Hm." I rubbed a hand over my face. "Well, this is kinda difficult. See, I finally got used to thinking of Francesca like a sister, but then Ray came back... and then it was like she didn't really need me as a brother anymore, and I kinda started hoping she might like me to be something else to her."

"I follow."

"But even though you've made it pretty clear you don't want to go out with her, she's still hanging on your every word, spending as much time with you as she can, watching for chances to get you alone..."

"Surely you're exaggerating."

I had to really work on my self-control at this point, because if anything drove me up the wall about Fraser, it was the way he just pretended everything was ideal all the time. Franny still chasing him wouldn't be ideal, so it must not be true. "I don't think I am," I said firmly. "The way you left things with her... you established that you like each other, but neither of you could put any qualifiers on it. She couldn't say, 'I like you and want to be your girl friend.' And you couldn't say, 'I like you, just not like that.' It's those little things that make the difference, and you need to learn to pay attention to them. Understand?"

He was quiet for a minute, and I worried that I might have been harder on him than I intended. Then he said, "Ray said something to me about it when we were at their house... I thought he must be making a mountain of a molehill, but if you see it that way, too..."

"We're just looking out for you. Both of you. You keep dancing around each other and someone's going to get stepped on, you know?"

He nodded. "Very well. For all our sakes, I will try to speak to Francesca about this soon."

"And don't be ambiguous."

"I won't be ambiguous."

"Lay it on the line."

"I'll be as clear as I can."

"Okay." _I just hope that's clear enough._

"By the same token, do you intend to make your feelings clear to her?"

Shoot, I'd walked into that one. "Yeah... I definitely need to. But me, I'm not so sure how I feel. I like her a lot, and I'd like to be dating her. And I love her as a friend, for sure. I'd just have to see if there was more there. And I'd rather talk to her about it after you've cleared up your relationship with her, because that will make it a hell of a lot easier for me."

"I see. I will do that soon."

"Good. Thank you. And I know you're usually pretty sensible about this stuff, but just to be sure: _please_ don't say anything about what I've told you to anyone, even Franny. Especially Franny."

"Understood." After a moment, he said, "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I huffed out a laugh. "I guess not. Guess your grandma might have been right."

* * *

We took our lunch back to Fraser's apartment and I set everything out while he took Dief outside for a walk. I tried out the couch and easy chair, and they were even more comfortable than I remembered them being at the thrift store. I could probably fall asleep on either of them.

When they got back, Dief ran up to me and put his paws on the couch, staring down at my sandwich.

"Oh, no," I told him firmly. "At least let me have first crack at it, Mister Greedy."

"Diefenbaker, that's very rude," Fraser scolded.

Dief backed off the couch and sat, not taking his eyes off my food.

I opened my bottle of soda and unwrapped my sandwich. "So, you got everything you need here, or are you still looking for some stuff? You could use a TV."

"I'll need to wait a little while before making any large purchases," Fraser answered. "Most of my readily available funds went into my deposit and the furniture I've found so far."

"Gotcha. Well, if there's anything you need that can't wait, just say the word. What good is having a neighbor if you can't borrow a cup of sugar now and then?"

"I doubt I'll be needing to borrow a cup of sugar."

"It's a... not a saying, but a... a tradition, I guess? People don't really do it anymore, but whenever people talk about borrowing stuff from neighbors, they always use a cup of sugar as the example."

"Ah. Why?"

I bit my lip. "I dunno... that's just what they ended up saying. What _would_ you probably need to borrow?"

"Well, in Tuktoyaktuk, I would think some sort of tool, such as a handsaw, might be what I would need to borrow most often."

I sighed. He was taking all this much too seriously. "Fine. What good is having a neighbor if you can't borrow a handsaw now and then?"

"Do you have a handsaw?"

I glanced to the side. "...No. It's a hypothetical, okay?"

He shrugged. "All right..." He sounded like he thought _I_ was the weird one.

* * *

After lunch, we went to see Ms. Tate to tell her that Ray was trying to arrange for her to see her son the following day. She cheerfully told us that Ray had already called her.

"I'm seeing him in the morning," she said happily. "It's all thanks to you."

"I merely did my best," Fraser told her, sounding saint-like. "That's all anyone can do."

"Well, I decided to bake you some cookies to say thank you."

"So that's what that delicious smell is," I said, smiling.

"That's very kind of you," said Fraser, "but you ought to take them to your son instead."

I kept my mouth shut. I had just started thinking that I would get some of these cookies, and now Fraser was trying to turn them down. Diefenbaker made a noise that told me he was in the same boat as me.

"He hasn't earned them yet," she said seriously. "If he gets his act together, I'll be happy to cook for him, but not yet."

Fraser looked uncomfortable. "Well... I'm sure they're excellent cookies," he said, "but as long as I'm involved in your son's case, it's important that I don't accept a gift of any kind from anyone else involved."

I grimaced. I knew why he was saying this—we were all supposed to turn down anything that could be construed as a bribe or payment for our actions. Stuff like that could get messy in court. A few cookies didn't seem like a big deal to me, but I knew he was right on principle.

"Oh, really?" she asked. Her expression and body language said that she was both surprised and disappointed, but covering her disappointment with the surprise.

"I'm afraid so," Fraser said sincerely. "Once all of this is over, I'd be more than happy to sample your baking, but for now it's out of the question."

"I see..." She frowned in thought. Then she looked up at me. "And you're involved in the case, too?"

I was groaning on the inside. After what happened in that interview room, I was definitely very involved. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Well. I guess I'll be taking them to my nieces, then," she decided.

Fraser smiled, seeming just as happy that she had thought of something else to do with them as he would have been to accept them himself. "I'm sure they will enjoy them very much."

She took his hand in both of hers and patted it. "Thank you very much for stopping by. You are very nice young men."

That was no consolation for not getting any cookies, but I tried to look grateful for the compliment. I waited until we were on the stairs to give Fraser my opinion.

"Cookies, Fraser? You really think dear little Miz Tate is going to stand up in court and say, 'I paid this man in cookies to arrange for my son to get a plea bargain...' Or worse, do you think her son will somehow find out about it and tell them, 'My mom gave this guy cookies to punch me during interrogation!' Seriously? We're on her side... what harm can it do?"

"That isn't the point, Ray."

"No, of course not."

"You know how these things work."

"Sure, I do. But it won't kill you to let all that duty, principle and procedure crap slide once in a while. Everybody else does, she seemed really disappointed, and they smelled like damn good cookies."

Dief gave a little bark.

Fraser sighed. "I'm sorry to disappoint her, but if something should happen, I don't think I can impress a judge by telling him how 'damn good' the cookies were. And as for all that duty, principle and procedure _crap,_ as you put it, if you don't uphold it at every moment, how can you call yourself a member of law enforcement?"

I hated how easily he always took the moral high ground. "I know. You're right. You're always right," I grumbled.

"Ray, would you like me to buy you some cookies?"

 _Ugh, just keep climbing that hill of morality, Fraser._ "No. That's okay. Forget it."

* * *

 _Thanks again for reading! Please leave a message after the click. ~Ray K.  
_


	22. Dinner With Friends

_A little more from the Mountie perspective. Posting earlier than usual to make up for the last one being so short. ~Ray K.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Dinner With Friends

RayK didn't bring up his dream on Friday, so I didn't either. When I joined him, RayV and Francesca at the precinct after my short morning shift at the consulate, they had begun working on a new homicide investigation. After we ate together in the lunchroom, Constable Turnbull came to give me the message from the inspector, and then he presented the song he had found for Francesca.

I took a little interest in Huey's proposal that he could find a country song she liked. I was fond of the genre myself, so I wished them success.

From the way Turnbull turned red at Francesca's kissing his cheek, I guessed that for my colleague, their friendship was something he hoped might become something more. That worried me a bit, and my worry was reinforced by the looks I saw on my friends' faces. A relationship is a difficult enough thing to sort out without competition. Still, I knew there was nothing I could do at that juncture, so I resolved to put it from my mind until action was called for.

I had gotten up early that morning and prepared a meal to serve my friends, so toward the end of the work day I extended an invitation to both Rays and Francesca. All accepted, as I hoped they would. RayK drove me back to our apartment building and we split up to change clothes. I put the oven on to preheat and then went to the door to let Ray in.

"Ray and Franny not here yet?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "They probably stopped somewhere."

"Have you got real dishes yet?"

"Yes." I pulled a stack of plates from the cupboard and handed them to him. "Thank you. If I'd had more time, I would have set everything out before we left this morning."

"Don't sweat it. I hardly ever set the table at all, let alone plan ahead."

I thought it must be nice to be so carefree about certain things. Of course, during our trek in the Yukon, I made little attempt at true place settings for us, but wilderness living is different by far. One comes to expect certain standards from urban living.

Between the two of us, we had the table completely set by the time RayV and Francesca arrived ("You seriously got cloth napkins?" Ray asked when I gave them to him), though I still had only two dining chairs. As I had thought, the Vecchios had stopped along the way: Ray had a bottle of wine and one of sparkling grape juice with him.

He approached me as I was getting the lasagna out of the refrigerator and warned that serving them some of his favorite foods was a risk, but I knew he wouldn't be too harsh if it hadn't turned out well. I made sure to give Francesca credit for the lasagna recipe before we got the meal underway, and her brother seemed surprised to hear that she had any interest in cooking. He had apparently missed (or forgotten) a few details about his sister while he was away.

I apologized about the lack of adequate seating and we discussed the thrift store-bought table and chairs. When I said I had sanded the table down, RayK exclaimed that he had heard me working on it. I hadn't thought the sound would carry into his apartment, and I was a bit chagrined, but he didn't seem very bothered by it. Still, I made a mental note not to work on noisy projects until a later hour, especially on the weekends when I knew people would be sleeping in.

RayK suggested playing poker while we waited for the lasagna to cook, and the rest of us agreed. I confess, I'm not much for planning entertainment; planning the meal itself had occupied my thoughts at the expense of everything else about the evening, so I was grateful for the suggestion.

Once the matter of teams was decided, RayV dealt the cards. His skill at dealing them impressed RayK, and the game helped us all adjust from our working mindset to a more relaxed one. Every time I play cards with RayK, I learn a bit more about the game, or at least get a helpful review. I still wouldn't say I'm very accomplished at it, but RayK did say I was "starting to get it."

I couldn't help but admire the Rays as they tried to outwit each other in the round that seemed never to end. RayV remained inscrutable as he calmly raised the stakes over and over. RayK seemed more agitated, but determined not to give in. Even though RayK ultimately won the round, I wouldn't say he necessarily displayed more skill than RayV. They seemed evenly matched with their separate approaches.

When I returned to the table after getting the lasagna out of the oven, Francesca asked if I would like to sit down for a while. That triggered RayK to realize that he could have brought over some bar stools from his apartment. RayV offered to help him get them, and I was left alone with Francesca. I sat across from her to wait for the others.

"I like your place," she told me.

"Thank you," I answered. "It's still a bit spartan, but I'll soon remedy that."

"If you need help with anything—curtains, linens... anything—you just let me know."

"I'll do that." I searched for something to say as the silence stretched out. Then we started to speak at the same time, and I told her, "Please, go ahead."

"I was just gonna say that in all this time, I've never been in this building before. Ray was over at our place now and then, but we didn't come here."

"Why is that?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Never really had a reason to come, I guess."

"Mightn't it have made his false identity more convincing if you had?"

"Maybe. But if my brother moves out, I don't know that I'll be at his place much. Maybe I'd help him move in, but we don't hang out a lot."

"Perhaps that's something you'd like to change?"

"I don't know." She fell silent a little while, thinking. Then she looked up at me. "What were you going to say before?"

I shook my head. "I've completely forgotten," I told her truthfully.

She smiled. "Oh, well." She looked past me toward the door. "What's taking them so long?"

It had been a couple of minutes since the Rays set out after the stools, and it was clear that something had distracted them.

"I don't know," I said. "Ray must have spotted something in Ray's apartment that interested him and started a conversation about it."

"Yeah, that's probably it. Probably something about cars. Those guys and their cars are like... new parents with their babies, you know?"

I smiled at the comparison. "Something like that. I suppose we all have our particular attachments that aren't readily understandable to others."

"I guess. There is this one brand of clothes I really like... and my lipstick." She conscientiously got out a compact mirror and checked her lipstick.

"It looks very nice," I said.

"Thanks. This one's called 'Red Letter Day.' A classic stand-by for me." She put her mirror away. "So, what's your little attachment?"

I was suddenly aware of Diefenbaker staring pointedly at me. "There is Dief," I said. He wagged his tail. "I do like travel by dogsled. Rather than knowledge of engine repair, you just have to have the right supplies and presence to keep a sled team working for you."

"I'd like to see you dog-sledding sometime," she said, her eyes seeming to look through me, as if she were watching the proposed scene far away.

"You should try it sometime. Even Ray has been on the dogsled with me before."

"Ray, my brother?"

"Yes."

"That must have been something."

The Rays returned with the stools then.

Francesca greeted them by asking, "Where'd you go to get those stools, Canada?"

"Sorry," said RayK. "I was telling Ray about that dream catcher Fraser made for me, and then I decided to show it to him, and I couldn't find it at first." He put a stool on the kitchen side of the table, and RayV put the other on the opposite side.

"Ah, I wondered where it had gotten to," I said.

"I told Ray he could have it... since you really made it for him."

I didn't know what to say to that. I had been planning to tell him he should try hanging it near his bed to see if it made any difference about the nightmares—it certainly couldn't hurt to try. But he had a point: I had originally designed it for the other Ray. I looked at RayV and confirmed, "Well, yes. That is true."

I got up to bring the lasagna over to the table, since it had cooled down a bit by this time. I noticed Diefenbaker taking up a strategic position by Francesca's chair and warned him to behave himself. I got the surly reply to which I had become accustomed.

While I was serving the lasagna, RayV got a phone call from Lieutenant Welsh. I heard him ask quietly, "You couldn't have called ten minutes ago?" I didn't know what exactly it was that he would have liked to avoid, except perhaps helping RayK retrieve the stools, but that didn't seem likely. When he finished his call, he told us that Giuliano De Luca's associate, Antonio Passero, had been located and would be arriving in Chicago in time for De Luca's arraignment Monday. It was a matter of some priority to persuade Passero to testify against De Luca, since he had intimate knowledge of the man's crimes, and would certainly be able to ensure a more severe sentence for him.

The Rays discussed their strategy for interviewing Passero, while Francesca and I conferred on my slight deviation from her lasagna recipe. Everyone seemed happy with the way it had turned out, and I was pleased.

Then came the visit from Ms. Tate which momentarily derailed our relaxed evening. She was reluctant to talk in front of my guests, but led by RayK, they gradually conveyed enough goodwill to convince her to open up. I was the first to make the connection that the man named Tate who was in lockup downtown happened to be the landlady's son.

I invited Ms. Tate to sit down, and she began telling us more about her son.

"Andrew isn't a bad boy," she said tearfully. "But he and his father had a strained relationship, and he finally left home just to get away from him. I should have done more, but... well, I don't know what I could have done. After Tom left me, I hoped Andrew would come back, but by then he'd taken up with some bad friends. You know the type—smoking, cussing underachievers."

"A bad influence can do a lot of damage to a person's integrity," I said solemnly. I had seen it happen too many times before not to know exactly what she meant.

"Yes, you're right." She sniffed hard. "I tried to tell him, before we fell out of touch, that if he'd only give up some of his bad habits, he could come home and we'd try again, but... he wouldn't listen. And then I heard he was in jail—out of the blue, after I hadn't heard from him for six months!"

"Have you gone to see him?"

"His lawyer said... said he didn't want to see me!" she gasped out in a new round of tears.

RayV shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we can't make him see you if he doesn't want to. He's got rights... not many, but he's got 'em."

I patted Ms. Tate's hand. "But there must be something we can do. Perhaps I can try having a word with him."

"Oh, would you?" she asked. "That would mean so much to me... just to know why he won't see me. And to tell him that whatever happens, we can work it out."

"First, of course, he will have to agree to see _me_. But if he will, I'll do my best."

She squeezed my hand. "Thank you so much!"

"Not at all."

I invited her to stay for dinner, but she said she had already eaten.

"You are an angel, officer Fraser," she said.

"It's constable, ma'am. But you may call me Benton if you prefer."

She smiled. "All right. Tell me as soon as you've heard anything."

"I will." I walked her to the door. "Please don't worry," I said before closing it after her.

When I returned to the others at the table, the conversation was all on Andy Tate and whether the situation with his mother might encourage him to be more cooperative. Once the Rays determined their course of action, the serious mood gave way to our previous one of relaxation.

Over all, I felt the apartment warming had gone well, and I was pleased with the way my friends were getting along. RayV hadn't seemed very enthusiastic about having RayK for a partner when they first began, but now it seemed that they were developing a good working relationship. It bode well for the court proceedings and investigations to come.

I was pleasantly surprised when RayK stayed to help me clean up afterward. I knew he didn't enjoy household chores, which made his willingness to help all the more significant. He was shaping up to be a very good neighbor. Although, he did tell me not to get used to it.

* * *

 _Your support is greatly appreciated. ~B. Fraser  
_


	23. Mending Fences

_Ray and I are glad that we wrote up several chapters ahead of time, since the site is giving us an error message when we attempt to create a new document. We sent a message to the site administration concerning this issue, and with good fortune it will be resolved before we run out of chapters already uploaded. ~B. Fraser  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-three: Mending Fences

Diefenbaker and I slept in until nearly eight o'clock Saturday morning. Then I got up and did some morning exercises before making breakfast. I began making a list of things my apartment still needed, such as a clock, a radio, window-dressing and the like.

The delivery truck arrived a little after ten, and I assisted two agreeable men in moving my couch and easy chair up the flight of stairs, down the hall and into my apartment. I gave them what I felt was a suitable tip and took a short rest before pushing the new furniture into place. It took me a little while to get it exactly into positions of my liking, and then I sat in the easy chair for a while, just enjoying the feel of it. Dief enthusiastically tested the couch.

After that, it was time to head to the consulate to see Inspector Lam. Since I would be taking the bus, I left Dief in the apartment. I went down the stairs and out into the late-spring sunshine.

I spotted Ray's car in the parking lot outside our building. I approached it and saw that he was still in the driver's seat, apparently lost in thought. I tapped on the passenger side window.

He put the window down and smiled in greeting. "Hey."

"Hello," I answered. "I was about to catch a bus to the consulate."

"Can that wait a little longer? Tate agreed to talk to you. I can drive you back over there."

"Yes, I suppose I can do that first. I take it the interview went well, then?" I got into the car and fastened my seatbelt.

"Kinda. We got the result we wanted, anyway. But I'm probably going to be suspended."

I was filled with misgiving. "Oh, dear... you kicked him in the head, didn't you?"

He snorted. "No, I did not kick him in the head. But... I hit him."

"Oh, dear," I said again. I could see that he didn't need me to tell him what a poor decision that had been, so I felt little but sympathy for him.

"Yeah. 'Oh, moose' is more like it."

I didn't have the heart to point out the spelling difference between "dear" and "deer." There being nothing more to say on the previous subject, and all else being dwarfed by it, we were silent all the way to the precinct. Ray turned on the radio, but kept the volume fairly low and didn't seem to really be listening to it.

"Tate won't talk to anyone but you," RayV told me when we arrived. "Of course, we'll be right outside in case there's trouble, but I know _you_ don't lose your temper."

He shot a meaningful look at RayK, who looked duly chastised.

"I probably shouldn't let you be in the building," RayV told RayK. "But I'll leave that up to Welsh on Monday. Just do me a favor and don't let Tate see you."

"I'm staying at my desk until you tell me he's gone back to lockup," RayK answered.

"I'll let you know if you miss anything good," Francesca offered.

I gave RayK a bolstering pat on the back and followed RayV and his sister from the room.

"Good morning," I greeted Tate and his lawyer as I entered the interview room. They seemed disinclined to answer. I decided to proceed. "I'm glad you agreed to see me. I know this is a bit unorthodox."

I sat across from Tate, who seemed uncertain of my meaning.

"A Mountie acting as liaison between an American suspect and his next of kin," I clarified. "But actually, liaison is exactly my job description." I gave him a disarming smile.

"You live in my mom's building," he stated.

"Yes, I do. Your mother is a very dear lady. I met her well over a year ago, but only recently moved into her building. In all that time, she hasn't had contact with you except through whatever media has covered your criminal career. That's very worrying for a parent, you know. Much like the parents of soldiers, the parents of criminals are forced to wait and watch events as filtered through popular opinion when all they really want is some news directly from their loved one. Why did you refuse to see your mother, Mister Tate?"

He avoided my gaze and crossed his arms in what I know to be a defensive posture. "Figured there wasn't anything to say. I let her down."

"How so?"

He looked up at me with a scowl. "You see where I am, don't you? You think any mother would be proud of a son in the clink?" He looked away again. "She was real young when she married my father... deadbeat good-for-nothin'. She did all the work and he just lived off what she made. At least they owned the building jointly, so when he left he gave up his share in exchange for her takin' over his debts. Took her years to get out from under it, but she finally did."

I tilted my head. I was getting some picture of the family history, but I didn't see how it all fitted together. "But why do you think you've let her down?"

"'Cause I ran away. Didn't stay and help her. We were in touch for a while, and all she'd ever tell me was how I needed to clean up my act. What's she got to say now that I haven't heard before?"

"Some things are hard to say. Perhaps if the two of you communicated more regularly, those things would come a little more easily. God knows there was far too much left unsaid between me and my father before he died... and I swear, he came back to haunt me in order to get the chance to say some of it."

His mouth twitched as if he found that amusing.

"Regardless of what she's able to tell you directly," I went on, "it's clear to me that your mother loves you very much. Above all, she wants the chance to renew your relationship. To use your words, you see where you are—can speaking with her really harm your situation at this point?"

I let the silence reign until he spoke. "I guess you're right," he said. "Can't make things worse."

I smiled. "May I inform her that you're willing to see her, then?"

"Well... I know the cops want something from me..."

"Indeed they do, but your reunion with your mother is by no means dependent on that."

"Okay."

"Good. As for what the police want, implicating your employer could greatly help you on your way to becoming a free man again. Be sure to discuss that with your mother when you see her. If you can see her as early as tomorrow, that will give you time to make an official statement to the investigating detectives before Mister De Luca's arraignment Monday. If you feel so inclined."

He nodded. "Okay," he said again.

I pushed back from the table.

"Could you give me some time to confer with my client?" the lawyer asked.

I nodded. "Of course."

RayV met me at the door as I came out. "'Atta boy, Benny," he said, smiling. "Got him right where we want him."

We filled RayK in on what had happened. Tate was escorted back to his holding cell and then we went our separate ways.

RayK offered to drive me to the consulate, and along the way, we talked about the newer case with the cutthroat victim. When the car was safely parked, I presented him with the pros and cons of different killing methods to show why I believed the killer to be experienced.

Constable Edwards came off his rare day shift as we were wrapping up our discussion. "Good afternoon, Constable Fraser," he said.

I turned toward him, bringing Ray around with me. "Ah, Constable Edwards."

"Building camaraderie with your CPD liaison?"

"Oh, we were just..." Ray started and trailed off.

He seemed to feel warm under my hands, and I suddenly worried that I might be aggravating the irritated area Tanner had attacked on his neck. "Discussing various aspects of a murder investigation," I finished for him. I let go of Ray, giving him an apologetic pat. "I understand the inspector wished to see me."

"Yes, he's been expecting you," Edwards replied. He nodded to Ray. "Detective."

Ray gave him an inverted nod in return. "You want me to wait?" he asked. "We can get lunch."

"It is lunchtime, isn't it?" I realized. "Yes, if you would wait, I'd appreciate it. I'd like to take something home, though. Diefenbaker has been cooped up for a few hours."

"Sure, that's fine."

"You can come inside," I offered, but I knew Ray had a checkered past with this building and might not want to accompany me inside.

He shook his head. "I'm good out here."

"Please send Constable Turnbull out to relieve me," said Edwards.

I nodded. "I'll do that." I went inside and soon found Turnbull at the reception desk. "Constable..."

Turnbull got to his feet and saluted. "Good afternoon, Constable Fraser!"

"Good afternoon. Constable Edwards advised me that you're meant to relieve him."

"Yes, so I am. Thank you for the reminder." He rushed toward the front door.

"You're welcome." I continued on to Inspector Lam's office and knocked.

"Enter," Lam called. When he saw it was me, he said, "There you are, constable."

"I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by waiting so long to see you," I apologized. "You did say to come at my convenience."

"I did," he acknowledged. He opened a drawer and pulled out a file. "I have here a record which shows an overview of your career with earned time off and furloughs. Please, look it over and see whether there might be any error."

I did, and there didn't seem to be anything amiss.

"So, to clarify, you've taken very little vacation time until recently, and even so, you have a lot of days still allotted to leisure time. The RCMP is supposed to make certain that its officers are well suited to the tasks before them, and that includes getting adequate rest."

"An admirable policy, sir," I commented.

"Yes, but when a man stacks up this much vacation time and doesn't take it, it reflects rather poorly on our division of law enforcement. Even counting the weeks off here," he pointed at the file, "and this excursion here, which we may call a furlough, do you realize that you still have a shocking number of weeks through which you've inappropriately worked? You've made arrests even during allotted time off, and didn't take any bereavement leave when your father died, except to attend the funeral."

"Oh, dear."

"Exactly. Now, I won't insist that you take it all immediately, but at the very least, I want you to take two more weeks' vacation before the year is out. One will be paid."

"That's very generous, sir."

"Not at all. Will you see that you take that time off?"

"I will, sir."

"Good. Try to choose dates soon."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

I rejoined Ray outside and we went to a local delicatessen to pick up sandwiches. Along the way, I explained what the inspector had told me, and I finally confronted Ray about his recent agitation.

As it turned out, the source of Ray's discontent was Francesca. He believed he could never pursue a personal relationship with her unless I clarified my own feelings toward her. I thought he must be exaggerating the situation, but when he reprimanded me for my inattention to detail, I felt it my duty to take him seriously. I remembered how RayV had spoken to me at his house. If both Rays believed that action was required on my part, I should surely listen to them.

"We're just looking out for you," he said. "Both of you. You keep dancing around each other and someone's going to get stepped on, you know?"

I nodded. "Very well. For all our sakes, I will try to speak to Francesca about this soon."

"And don't be ambiguous."

"I won't be ambiguous."

"Lay it on the line."

"I'll be as clear as I can."

"Okay."

"By the same token, do you intend to make your feelings clear to her?"

He seemed caught off guard, but in the end he allowed that it was something he needed to do, and said it would be easier if I held up my end first. I agreed.

When we got back to my apartment, Ray set about preparing our lunch while I took Dief out for a much-needed walk. We stopped at a local linen shop which was having a sale. I chose some curtains more for their quality of fabric than for the appeal of the pattern; I wasn't at all sure that it would compliment the furniture well. But they would do for the time-being. On our return, Ray was more than ready to start eating, as was Dief, though I quickly put a stop to his begging.

For some reason, we started out discussing what else I might need for my apartment and ended up talking about people borrowing sugar and handsaws from each other. My friends are a constant source of inspiration to me, but sometimes they simply do not make sense.

After lunch, we enjoyed a pleasant visit with Ms. Tate, but I unfortunately had to refuse an offer of baked goods. Ray categorically objected to this refusal, which led to another near-argument. Ever since our worst argument, the one that had come to blows (well, one blow, to be precise), I had tried to gauge Ray's level of irritation so I could relent if we seemed in danger of reaching that point again. (And here I must add that it was _twice_ he warned that he would punch me in the face, not five times.) Much as I value logic and principle, they are things which can sometimes wait for a more opportune time of discussion. Our friendship, however, is a more delicate thing that must be put first at all times if it is to be maintained. This is one of life's difficult lessons which I have had to learn the hard way.

On this occasion, I did not feel the threat of a crumbling friendship. I drove my points home, leading to Ray's agreeing, at last, that I was right.

"You're always right," he grumbled.

I thought that although the bulk of the discussion was over, things might smooth over more quickly if I made a peace offering. "Ray, would you like me to buy you some cookies?" I asked.

"No. That's okay. Forget it."

He was refusing to be mollified. In cases like this, I had not yet discovered a way to coax him out of his pouting, and my best strategy was to try to act as if all were back to normal and hope that he followed suit. I did give Dief a quiet scolding for his attempts at wheedling.

* * *

 _Thank you for your continued support. Please leave a comment if you can spare the time. ~B. Fraser  
_


	24. Heroes Of a Feather

_[Ray: You sure about that chapter title?  
_

 _Fraser: Not entirely, but it was the best way I could think of to tie the beginning of the chapter to the end._

 _Ray: It's kinda corny._

 _Fraser: Does it offend you?_

 _Ray: Nah._

 _Fraser: Then I think you may keep your criticism to yourself.]_

 _That being settled—please enjoy the latest chapter. I'm pleased to note that the trouble in saving new documents appears to have been resolved. ~B. Fraser_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-four: Heroes Of a Feather

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" I asked when RayK and I got back to our doors.

"Nah. I've been too busy to make any plans. I'll probably just watch TV."

Diefenbaker put his paws up on Ray's door and looked at him, tongue hanging out.

"Looks like Dief wants to watch TV, too," Ray said.

"Or he hopes you're planning to eat dinner while you watch," I said knowingly.

Ray knelt to give Dief a scratch behind the ears. "Well, I don't mind if he wants to hang out. You're welcome too, if you want," he added, glancing up at me. "But I'll probably just be having canned soup or something for supper." It looked like he wasn't upset about the cookies anymore.

"I'll keep it in mind. Right now, I want to go by the Vecchio house to get the wood stain Ray offered me."

"Oh, yeah. You want a ride?"

"That's kind of you, but if I let you drive me around all the time, I'll have to start giving you gas money."

"I'm cool with that," he said, smiling as he got to his feet. "I won't charge you what a cab would, and the wolf rides free."

"You're sure you're available now?"

"I'm not doing a thing."

"In that case, I accept."

A few minutes later, we were getting into Ray's car again. The GTO was as familiar to me and Dief as the Riviera by now, and the passenger seat was always adjusted for me, except for the week before, when Francesca had ridden in it.

Once Ray was about to put the car in gear, Dief leaned over and licked him about the collar.

"Gah! Stop that!" Ray exclaimed, trying to fend Dief off with one hand.

"You're making it awfully difficult for him to drive safely," I chided Dief, who backed off.

I looked over at Ray's neck, where Dief had been licking. It looked as if the area had completely healed, so my previous concerns were probably unfounded. "How's your neck?" I asked.

"A little moist, thanks to your wolf, but I'll survive."

"I was referring to the abrasions you incurred in your scuffle with Tanner."

"Oh, that? That was nothing. It's my ribs that still smart. And my hand from clocking Tate."

"Your ribs?"

"Yeah... Tanner kneed me pretty good. It's some nice colors. But it only hurts if I touch it or lie on my side the wrong way."

"Did you see a doctor?"

"Hell, no. It wasn't that big a deal. Hurt worse when I took a shot to the bullet-proof vest. That got pretty, too."

"I remember. I'm still amazed you didn't go to a doctor on that occasion."

"Eh. I'd had worse than that in the boxing ring."

"I don't see how that negates the value of seeking professional medical guidance."

Ray smiled and shook his head. "Trust me, I'm fine, okay?"

"If you say so."

* * *

What I had thought would be a quick stop at the Vecchio house turned into a somewhat longer visit. Mrs. Vecchio hadn't seen us since we'd had dinner there, and she had a lot to say to Ray by way of thanks for his part in what had transpired the week before.

"You, my boy," she said, giving him a kiss on the mouth that seemed to embarrass him a good deal, "you are our angel!"

"Oh, ma," Ray protested.

"Without you, Francesca would be in some murderous man's basement, hungry, no sunlight, alone—if she was lucky! And you risked your life for her. You're a good boy."

I smiled at this display of fondness. Ray had come a long way since I'd met him; I'd always known that his declaration of "I don't risk my neck for anyone!" had been less than honest, and now it seemed he could no longer deny his own gallantry.

"A good brother and son," Mrs. Vecchio continued. "You'll stay for dinner, of course."

"Uh..." Ray looked at me, at a loss for words. His adoptive nieces and nephews were crowded around him, two clinging to his legs with impressive grip strength for their size.

It was still a couple of hours before dinnertime, and I had been wanting to work on staining my table that afternoon, but that hardly seemed important in comparison to a mother's feelings. "Staining the table can wait," I told him.

"But you wanted to get that done, right? I mean, you're going to be busy tomorrow..."

I got the feeling Ray didn't want to stay, at least not right now. "Perhaps we could come back afterward," I suggested, watching his face carefully to see if this were a suitable compromise.

"Yeah," he said. "We'll get started on his table, then we'll come back for dinner. Okay?" he asked, looking back at Mrs. Vecchio.

"All right," she said, "but you make sure you're here at seven. Seven," she repeated, looking at me.

I nodded. "I'll see that we're on time," I told her.

"Uncle Ray," Little Tony said, tugging on Ray's sleeve. "You're a hero."

"Uh..." Ray laughed. "I don't know about that."

"You certainly are!" Mrs. Vecchio declared. She ruffled Little Tony's hair. "Now, you kids say bye and let Uncle Ray go so he can take Fraser home and do chores and get back here in time for dinner."

The children reluctantly released Ray from their clutches.

* * *

"You did want to have dinner with the Vecchios, didn't you?"

"Sure," Ray said, keeping his eyes on the road. "It's just... it's so early, the kids would be all over me for hours. I can't take all that."

"You like kids."

"Yeah, I know. I do. I really do. And I missed them while we were away. But..." he glanced down and then looked back at the road. "I don't know. I guess I at least want a chance to clean up a little. I didn't bother to shower today, and I'm in my street clothes..."

"Should I put on my uniform?" I asked, not wanting to embarrass Ray by not rising to the occasion.

"No," he said quickly. "It's not like it's a formal dinner or anything. I just feel kinda... shabby."

"I see."

"Hey, if you get a chance, tonight might be a good time to talk to Franny."

I couldn't contradict that. "Perhaps so."

When we got home, Ray went to his apartment to shower and change, and I began putting down layers of newspaper on the kitchen linoleum to catch any stain that fell from the table. I decided to stain the legs and underside of the table first. I was about halfway done with the first coat when Ray knocked at the door.

"Come in," I called.

Ray's hair was standing up from his head in wet spikes, and he still had a towel around his shoulders, but he had put on some of his nicer casual clothes. "You want a hand?" he asked.

I pointed to the extra brush beside the can of stain and he joined me on the floor, picking it up. I could tell he hadn't done much woodworking before, but he mimicked my actions and took to it all right. "You're a natural," I told him.

He laughed. "Great. Greatness. If Welsh fires me, I know I'll have a career in wood staining to fall back on."

I smiled at his quip. "I'm sure Welsh isn't about to fire you."

"Let's hope not. But yeah, I'm guessing he'll just suspend me for a week or something. Better have my badge and gun ready to hand over on Monday."

He didn't sound bitter; it was hard to read his mood. "What was it Tate said that made you so angry?"

"Eh... he said something ugly about Franny, and she was listening in. He probably didn't even mean it."

"Do you regret it?"

"I don't know. I guess so. But I don't regret sticking up for Franny. I don't think anyone's done that, much."

I thought he was partly right, given the arguments I had heard between Francesca and her brother. Still, RayV had proven very protective of her in specific situations.

"Of course, you have," Ray added.

I was definitely willing to defend Francesca if she needed it, but I wasn't sure if Ray was referring to a particular instance.

He shook his head. "I still can't figure it out. Did you, or didn't you?"

"Did I, or didn't I, what?"

"Sleep with her."

I immediately focused my attention on the task at hand. This was not the first time he had asked me, and as my friend, I felt it was completely inappropriate for him to continue doing so after my first refusal to answer.

"Are you ever gonna tell me?"

"There's no reason for me to tell you."

"I don't know about that... I mean, if you did, then I gotta ask if you're gonna be okay with it if I start going out with her. And there are other reasons it would be helpful to know, too."

"Such as?"

"Don't distract me."

"From what?"

"The main question."

"I've already told you, I'm not going to disclose a secret which is not mine alone to tell. Even if it were... there are things one does not reveal, even to a partner and friend."

Fortunately, that seemed to deter him for the time-being. He always knew I was serious when I spoke directly of our friendship.

He moved to dip his brush into the can of stain again and wrinkled his nose. "Man, this stuff stinks," he said. "Are we gonna get high off it? Let's open the window."

I set my brush on the can's lid and stood up, glad to flex my stiff joints. "I'll open the one in the bedroom," I said.

"Will that make much difference?" he asked, going to the window at the edge of the living area.

"Two openings will encourage steady airflow," I explained. "It will help to dissipate the fumes more quickly."

"Huh."

"You know how it is if you put down one window in your car," I called, now in the bedroom. "The temperature and freshness of the air inside the car will change gradually, but you won't get a strong breeze unless you open two of them."

"I never thought about it much before."

We reconvened at the table.

"Scientific principles are all around you, Ray," I told him, taking up my brush again. "A little applied observation will take you far."

"Guess that's my problem. I'm not the most observant person. I mean, I notice stuff if I think it might be important, but if I don't, then it's like it's invisible."

"Anyone can learn to be a keen observer. You just need the motivation."

We worked without talking for a little while; then Ray said, "Hey, Fraser?"

"Yes."

"That, uh... that dream catcher: You weren't mad that I gave it to Ray, were you?"

"No, not at all. I did think, in light of your recent nightmare, that you might want to keep it."

"Well, yeah, there's that. How much trouble would it be to make another one?"

"With genuine eagle feathers?"

"Could you substitute something else?"

I thought over the native American lore with which I was familiar, and then remembered something. "I do have a raven feather I could use."

"Ravens are good?"

"Ravens are fly."

He gave me a strange look and then laughed. "You're trying to talk street again?"

"I thought the pun appropriate. In any case, though the raven is sometimes an irresponsible trickster, he is also commonly a heroic figure in folklore."

"Heroes are cool."

"And can undoubtedly ward off bad dreams."

"Sounds good."

I nodded. "Then, as soon as I can get my hands on some willow saplings, I'll start making it."

"Willow... okay, sure. Thanks."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Please spare a moment and do us the courtesy of leaving a little feedback. It only takes a second to be courteous. ~B. Fraser  
_


	25. Head Of the Table

_Back to my point of view. A handful of you are keeping up pretty closely, reading same-day or day-after we post. Glad you're liking it so much. ~Ray K.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-five: Head Of the Table

When we got back to the third floor, Fraser asked me, "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

I wished I did. I pretty much didn't have a love life—that was nothing new, and my absence while in Canada had put me out of sight and mind of anyone who had been a potential date for me when I left. I'd been pretty wrapped up in the idea of getting Francesca to go out with me, so I hadn't been trying to score with anyone else. I'm sure Fraser would have found that admirable. But I felt a little... depressed. I just told him I'd been too busy to make plans, and that I'd probably just watch TV that night.

Dief pounced on my door and looked at me with a doggy grin.

"Looks like Dief wants to watch TV, too," I said.

"Or he hopes you're planning to eat dinner while you watch," said Fraser.

"Well, I don't mind if he wants to hang out. You're welcome too, if you want," I said. I didn't want him to think I was lonely, but... hell, I was. "But I'll probably just be having canned soup or something for supper," I warned him.

"I'll keep it in mind. Right now, I want to go by the Vecchio house to get the wood stain Ray offered me."

I knew he still didn't have a car, so he'd have to take a bus, which would mean a little bit of a hike for him on each end of the bus route, or a taxi, which was expensive. When I offered to drive him, he said he'd have to start paying me, and that was fine by me.

Fraser asked about my injuries on the way over, and he took some convincing that I was OK. I told him the truth: that my neck was all better and my ribs didn't hurt either, if I didn't touch the sore spot. My hand still hurt, but I could tell it wasn't broken. I guess I appreciated that he was concerned, but I didn't like to say so. And I definitely wanted him to quit worrying so much. It wouldn't do either of us any good.

When we got _chez_ _Vecchio_ , I figured we'd be in, out, and off home again in a couple of minutes, but I was forgetting that we hadn't visited since the whole attempted kidnapping thing. Ma Vecchio actually kissed me in front of Fraser and the kids... I mean, I know they're Italian, but geez... on the mouth? That's pretty embarrassing from a mother figure. The terms "angel" and "hero" were thrown in my direction, which just made me feel weirder. I don't take it lightly that Franny was in a bad spot, and I definitely helped her out of it, but I couldn't have done any different. I'd have hated myself if I did.

When she said we should stay for dinner, I wasn't totally against it. I wanted to see more of Franny outside work, for sure. But I was definitely not dressed to impress at the moment, and I hadn't even showered. Nope, that was no good. Thank god, Fraser got the hint and suggested we could come back later. Most of the time, our nonverbal communication is pretty decent, but now and then he gets a completely wrong message, and it seems like it's always at a really bad time. Like a time when it might put my life in danger. He's saved my life enough times to make up for it, but still.

After I showered and got into some more presentable clothes, I went over to Fraser's and helped him stain his table, which was actually kind of fun. It reminded me of painting the GTO with my dad. Stain on wood is definitely different from paint on metal, though. The fumes are different, too, but I don't know if I'd consider them more or less unpleasant than paint fumes.

I tried to get Fraser to finally tell me about the night Franny surprised him at his old place. I had heard the story before I even met him—it had kind of become a legend at the 27th division. But it had one of those endings you have to decide for yourself, because the two main characters wouldn't come out and say what had really happened. When I met him, I was like, no way this happened. No freaking way. Fraser gives off this innocent vibe that makes you question whether he'd even know what to do with a woman. I know now that yes, he would... but I still doubted that he could be that spontaneous, especially with Franny, because... well, because she's Franny. She's someone he tends to think of in kind of a brotherly way, and her being his partner's sister would probably have made him hesitate, too.

Still, I could never quite be sure that nothing happened, and given that I was hoping to become Franny's boyfriend, I felt it was important for me to know their history. Also, I was just really damn curious. There's nothing wrong with curiosity. But Fraser started to get a little tetchy, so I gave it up for the time-being. Whenever he gets really upset with you, he has this way of making you feel super guilty until you can't stand it and you have to apologize, which is humiliating... passive aggression, I think you'd call it.

I changed the subject and we talked about the fumes that might be starting to effect our judgment. Then we opened the windows and he started talking science, and that irritated me a little because I sometimes think he just knows too much about everything. Not too much, really, just... more than I do. It makes me feel a little dumb. And jealous. Even though half the time it's nothing I need to know, I wish I noticed stuff like that.

I decided to change the subject again, and asked him about the dream catcher. He didn't seem upset that I'd given it to Ray, just confused because he thought it might do me some good. I don't really believe in that mumbo-jumbo, but I didn't have anything to lose, and Fraser was willing to make me another one.

"Would you like me to finish it in time for your birthday?" Fraser asked.

I had never told him when my birthday was, but I knew he knew because he'd checked up on me. It was some kind of coincidence, but my birthday was just a week before Ray Vecchio's. When Fraser first gave me the dream catcher and I told him, "It's not my birthday!" I was partly just annoyed with him at the time, and partly surprised that he'd found out about my birthday and shown up with a present a week late, and barely remembering that it was actually the other Ray's birthday that day. It was a very disorienting day altogether... and the eclipse didn't make it any more normal.

"Whenever is fine," I told him. "You know I don't make a big deal out of my birthday like Ray does."

"Why is that? I've always wondered."

"Why don't you?" I countered. I didn't even know when Fraser's birthday was. I'd meant to find out and never gotten around to it.

"I used to," he said. "I haven't since I was transferred to Moose Jaw. I didn't know anyone there, and it became less important to me to mark the passing years."

"But you know a lot of people here, now," I pointed out.

"It's a different set of people... it would have a very different feel to it."

"Is that a bad thing? I mean, just 'cause we don't play 'kick the cabbage' or 'bobbing for trout,' would that make you hate it?"

He smiled. "No."

"You should try a good ol' American birthday party. With presents and cake... and hey, didn't you say something about Twister that one time?"

"Ah, yes. It's rather popular up north."

"See, I always thought of Twister as a totally American game."

"It was designed in America, you're quite right about that. However, it has become very popular elsewhere."

"I'm sure. So, when is your birthday?"

"It's in November."

"November what?"

"Thirtieth."

"Not Christmas, huh?"

"No."

"I figured you fell off a Christmas tree or something. Or that you'd at least have been a winter baby."

"I was conceived in an igloo at the end of February or beginning of March."

I laughed. "Okay, that makes sense. An igloo? For real? Your dad was a Mountie... was your mom an Eskimo?"

"No."

He didn't seem amused, so I sobered. "Hey, I was just kidding."

"I know."

I kind of wanted to ask more about this igloo conception, but I decided it was better to let it go for now.

* * *

"You sit at the head of the table," Ma Vecchio told me when we were gathered in the dining room. "You are the guest of honor."

"Uh..." I smiled awkwardly and glanced at Ray. I knew that was his spot.

But Ray had a grudging smile on his face, and he motioned me over. "Go on, go on," he said, and even pulled the chair out for me.

I sat down, and the others found their places around me. The kids all wanted to sit by me, but Ray told them to "scram" and they moved off down the long table.

Ray's maternal grandfather had even made it out for the occasion. I hadn't seen him for a few months. His health was shaky these days, so he didn't leave his house much anymore. I had heard that he might move into Ray's house permanently so the family could take care of him. He seemed to be having a good day, and smiled and lifted his glass toward me when he caught my eye. I smiled back at him and nodded, wondering if he had ever really understood what I was doing there. I kind of got the impression he thought I really was a relation of theirs.

Ray sat on my right, and Fraser on my left, but when Franny came along and ousted one of the kids from his other side, he quickly moved down a spot. It didn't seem out of character for him to do that, because it did make it easier for Franny to get in on the end... and it also put her next to me. Good man.

"Last time, you said no more taking bullets for each other," Ma said, filling my water glass from a pitcher.

"Well, I didn't," I said. "I tried really hard not to, too."

She chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Well, no more dangerous stuff for a while, understand?"

I didn't see how I could promise something like that, given my line of work, but maybe my suspension would see that it happened. "Yeah, okay," I said. I felt warm. This woman handed out kisses too much. She expected them, too, but usually just when someone was leaving.

A minute later, she and Maria were bringing out two huge pizzas from the kitchen.

"Is this home-made?" Fraser asked, sounding impressed.

"Yeah, we make our own now and then," she answered modestly. "Raimondo, you say the blessing."

Ray cleared his throat and folded his hands. He looked pointedly at each of the kids until they closed their eyes.

I closed my eyes too, smirking.

"Bless us, O Lord," Ray began, "bless Francesca and thank you she's still with us... bless Ray and thank you he's safe. Thank you for blessing us all with this extra-amazing pizza—"

The kids giggled, and he paused until they were quiet again.

"Through Christ our Lord, amen."

We all echoed "amen," even me. I may not believe, but I do feel kind of grateful. Grateful to that family for taking me in, making me feel welcome, and appreciating me like my real family sometimes neglected to do. And I might also feel a little grateful to someone or something else that saw fit not to let me croak that night I faced Tanner.

"Is this a traditional Italian pizza?" Fraser asked while Ma Vecchio started slicing. He was eyeing it as if he knew better.

"Eh, who cares?" Ma said, getting a grin out of me. "It tastes good. And just for you two, we put pineapple and Canadian bacon on this one."

"Oh... thank you kindly."

"Canadian bacon is just ham, right?" I asked, eagerly holding up my plate while she served me a slice. The cheese was stringing out like spider web behind it, like it didn't want to let go. I gathered it up with my fork until it finally came away.

"Strictly speaking, no," Fraser answered me. "What Americans call Canadian bacon, Canadians would call lean back bacon. The back bacon typically enjoyed in Canada is taken from both the back and the pork belly in one cut. It tends to be leaner than regular bacon, but fattier and more thinly sliced than the American equivalent."

"So, this stuff isn't _really_ Canadian bacon," said Franny, sounding disappointed. It had probably been her idea.

Fraser shrugged. "No more than an English muffin made in America is really English. Less so, I'd say."

"Do you like regular bacon?"

"I do enjoy it, though it's not good for the body to indulge in such fatty food on a regular basis."

"Well, this is a celebration," Ray said. "So don't hold back." He passed his plate down toward the second pizza. "Give me some good ol' pepperoni. I only take fruit on my pizza if there's no other option."

I knew pineapple on pizza was one of those things most people either loved or hated. I loved it, but I liked lots of other kinds, too. This one was amazing. Not only did they heap on the cheese, but they actually used fresh pineapple, too. And the Canadian bacon... or "back bacon" or whatever you want to call it, was pretty good, too.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Comments? Questions? Smart remarks? Go for it. ~Ray K.  
_


	26. Taking the Fall

_Hey, guys. This one's nice and emotional for ya. Good and messy. Which, I gather, is how people like their fanfic. So enjoy.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-six: Taking the Fall

I hadn't thought to leave room for dessert, and Maria and Franny had made this really rich cake. I felt bad turning it down, so I said maybe if I waited a while, I'd have room later.

"If you can't eat it, you can take some with you," Ma said. "Papa, you want a taste?"

"Oh, just a little," the grandfather said, smiling.

The kids all got served next, bottomless pits that they were, and being the ones who would need baths before bed. They would be attending Sunday morning mass the next day. I offered to read to the little ones when they got done with their baths, to give my stomach a little time to process everything I'd put in it. I also hoped Fraser would get a chance to talk to Franny if I wasn't around.

I was almost to the end of _The Bike Lesson_ when I heard someone in the hall. It was Franny this time. She shook her head to tell me to keep reading, so I went on and finished the book, turning to the last illustration of the bike outside the bears' tree house.

"Okay, time to go to sleep," I said. "Mommy will come tuck you in soon."

"Good night, Uncle Ray," said the middle girl, Viola.

"Good night, sweetie." I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Good night, you," I said, reaching over to pet the little one, Camilla. She made this really tight little smile without showing any teeth. She didn't talk to me much yet, but she seemed to like me.

I turned out their light and was about to shut the door when I heard Camilla whine and Viola called, "The nightlight isn't on!"

I turned back around and found the outlet with the nightlight in it. "Here you go," I said, switching it on. We said good night again and then I closed the door.

"You're really good with them," Franny said.

I didn't know what to say, so I just smiled and shrugged.

"Listen, can I talk to you?"

"Sure," I said, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

She took me down the hall to her room, the one place in the house I'd scarcely seen the inside of. She put on the light and closed the door most of the way behind us. "I just don't wanna be overheard," she said. "So, don't get any ideas."

I abruptly stopped having ideas.

"Anyway... you know that self-defense class at the academy?"

"Yeah."

"I, uh... I actually started taking it already. Like a month ago, while you were away."

"Really? Why didn't you say something?"

"Mm..." she bit her lip for a second. "Well, because it's not going so great," she admitted. "I'm okay with most of it, I guess, but having someone actually attack me and remembering everything I'm supposed to do... well, I get confused. I'm not exactly the best student in the class, and then when something happened for real, I just forgot everything. And he was so much stronger than me. I just felt helpless." She sniffed and cleared her throat. I could tell it wasn't easy for her to admit all this, and I knew she'd never be admitting it to me if it weren't one hundred percent true. She was really trusting me here.

"Well... just because you haven't got it all down yet doesn't mean you won't," I said. "It's just taking you longer than it takes some people."

"Too long." She sighed and took a minute to get herself together. "I was wondering if... if maybe you could help me out a little. Without telling anyone."

"Like lessons?"

She was keeping her eyes off me. I could practically taste how much she hated asking me. "Yeah. See, I can't ask Ray because he'd just make fun of me. And..."

"And... Fraser?" I asked.

"I'd just make a fool of myself."

I decided not to comment on that. "Well, yeah. We can work something out."

"You won't get frustrated with me? I really suck."

"I won't get frustrated, and I won't make fun of you. I really want you to be good at this, you know? I want you to be safe."

"And you won't try any funny stuff?"

"If I did, it would be stupid of me to be teaching you how to incapacitate me."

"Good point."

"But I wouldn't do that," I added. "You want my help, you got it. No strings."

She sighed again, and this time it sounded like relief. "Thanks."

"Is a hug okay?"

She nodded and let me hug her.

Our tender moment was interrupted by a barrage of loud Italian coming from somewhere up the hall.

"What the hell?" Franny muttered, letting go of me and going to peek out her door. She frowned. "God, I wish I were fluent... Ma's yelling at Papa for something. She should break into English soon, though." She opened the door wider and crept along the hall.

I followed her. Sure enough, soon we heard Ma starting to speak English. Ray, Fraser and Dief came up the stairs and paused at the other end of the hall. Then we all got closer and closer to Ray's room.

"You _know_ what the doctor said!" Ma was yelling at her father. "And you bring this here, with the children in the house!"

"Ma, what's going on?" Franny asked, looking ready to retreat any moment.

"Look at your grandchildren," Ma continued to speak to her father, and gestured at the rest of us, even seeming to include Fraser. "What example are you setting them?" She shook something in his face.

"I'm sorry, Marta," Papa said meekly. "You're right. I didn't mean any harm."

"Are those... cigarettes?" Ray asked, looking horrified.

I thought he was just over-acting at first, because hey, he had been sneaking cigarettes for the last... well, since he got back from Vegas, and here he was acting shocked. I didn't quite put two and two together.

"You see," Ma said. "We're all ashamed of you."

"I'll throw them away," said Papa.

 _"I'll_ throw them away," she snapped. "Somewhere you won't find them."

"W-where did _you_ find them?" Ray asked.

"In his bathrobe," she answered, coming toward us.

As she got closer, I could see that the pack looked unfamiliar. It was no brand I'd ever seen before, except... Then, it finally clicked.

"Uh, Ma," Ray started.

"It's my fault," I jumped in before he could finish his sentence.

"You?" Ma looked at me like she couldn't imagine any way in hell that I could be responsible for this.

"Yeah... I had these foreign cigarettes some stoolie gave me and I don't smoke... I thought since we were celebrating tonight, why not let the old man have a treat? It was stupid. I didn't think about his health... he seemed to be doing really good."

"Ray..." she still looked like she couldn't believe it.

I took the pack from her limp hand. "I'll get rid of them," I said. I looked past her into the room. "Sorry, Papa," I said. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"Oh, it's all right, my boy," he said. Poor old guy. I couldn't tell if he'd been covering for whoever they belonged to in the first place, or if he really thought I'd given them to him and he'd forgotten.

"Um..." I could barely glance up at Ma. "Sorry, Ma. It won't happen again, I promise."

I guess she was too surprised to say anything, and I decided to make my exit. I went back down to the dining room where Ray and Fraser had abandoned their half-eaten cake.

Dief came up behind me and nudged my hand. I petted his head. "It's okay, boy."

* * *

Ray, Fraser and Franny joined me a minute later. I couldn't look at anyone. Fraser and Franny thought I was enabling the old man and Ray knew I'd lied.

"So..." Franny said finally.

"Kowalski, could I have a word?" Ray interrupted her.

"Oh, don't be dramatic," she said. "You can chew him out in front of Fraser and me. Or were you planning to beat him up?"

"I am _not_ going to beat him up! I just want a word with him in private, that's all." He clamped a hand down on my shoulder and pushed me toward the front door.

"It's fine," I said, going along willingly.

Once he shut the door, he said, "You really don't wait to plan stuff out, do you?"

"I kinda go with my gut."

"Uh-huh... and was your gut doing that for me, or for Ma?"

I shrugged. "Both, I guess."

"What a mess," he sighed. "You better hope Ma doesn't realize you had no way of knowing Papa was gonna be here tonight. I'm gonna tell him the truth. It'll make him feel better, and that way he'll sleep good and probably forget the whole thing by morning."

"You don't think he'll rat you out?"

"Nah."

"How'd he find them, anyway?"

"They were in my sock drawer. He usually sleeps in my room when he comes to visit. I guess he wanted some extra socks or something. Who knows? Probably didn't think anything about slipping them in his bathrobe pocket for later. Probably thought they were his to begin with. He's harmless, but kinda senile, you know?"

"Mm." I got the cigarettes out of my pocket and gave them to Ray. "Better hide 'em better next time."

"Yeah. God, I gotta move outta here." He hid the pack in his shirt sleeve. "Any more vacancies in your building?"

I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of the three of us living so close together, but I just said, "I dunno. I can see."

After a few seconds, he shook his head and huffed. "You come into my home, impersonate me, become part of the family, save my sister from being kidnapped... and now you're taking the fall for my screw-ups. Lemme tell you, even Paulie wouldn't have done that. You're officially my brother now. Someone's got a beef with you, they got a beef with me. They throw mud at you, they're throwing mud at me." He pointed at me and jerked his thumb back at himself.

Other than Fraser, I hadn't had anyone really put themselves in my corner like that for a really long time. My chest felt kind of tight. Over all, it was a good feeling, but I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Come here," he said, pulling me into a hug.

Once I got over being startled, I smiled and hugged him back. "Always wanted a brother," I said.

"Better late than never." He thumped me on the back and I knew that was the signal—the hug had to end there or it would get too mushy.

I moved away. "So, how we gonna play this when we go back in?"

"Uh... I gave you an extra scolding with a heart-to-heart, you're very sorry, you gave the cigarettes to me to take care of because you trust me... you respect me..."

"Don't lay it on too thick," I laughed.

"...and you learned your lesson and we're pals now."

"Good enough. Let's go."

* * *

Franny studied me real good when we came back in, and I wondered if she was looking for swelling and bruises. "You want some cake?" she asked me.

"I don't think I could," I said. The pizza was sitting heavy in my stomach after the weird emotional crap.

"I'll wrap some up for you." She left the room.

"So," Fraser began as Franny had before, nervously touching his eyebrow. He does that a lot when he's thinking hard or feeling awkward. I don't think he knows he does it.

"It's done," Ray said. "Forget it." He slapped me on the back. "No sense beating a dead horse."

"There's no sense beating _any_ horse."

"It's an expression."

"We're cool, Fraser," I told him, which seemed to relieve his nervousness a little more.

"You guys go home, rest up, and I'll see you on Monday." Ray looked at me. "Just don't be too surprised if you don't get to stick around. I'm writing up my report tomorrow for Welsh to go over. I'm not gonna offer you up for the slaughter, but I am gonna tell the truth."

I nodded. "Fair enough."

Franny brought me a plate with plastic wrap covering a thick slice of cake. She obviously wasn't mad at me.

I smiled at her. "Thanks. I'll see you soon."

"Okay." She walked us to the door. "Ma will be okay," she said as we went out. "Nobody ended up smoking the things, so I'm sure she'll decide there was no harm done and you'll be back on her good side before you know it."

"I hope so," I said. "I feel terrible."

"Well... you should. But it'll be okay."

Back in the GTO, I felt the familiar wolf tongue by my ear. "All right, Dief," I said, pushing him away.

Fraser didn't say anything, and that was worse than a lecture. Halfway home, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I know, it was a stupid thing to do," I said.

"I'm not judging you, Ray."

"No, but you're sitting there wondering how I could do something so stupid..."

"That would be judging you."

"I guess." I sighed. "Trust me, I feel just awful about the whole thing, but like Ray said, it's done."

"I was actually wondering about those cigarettes. Your 'stoolie' might be the person Ray Vecchio has been meeting. It would account for the unusual odor."

"Uh..." I tried to decide if that was safe to let him believe. It didn't seem safe because the stoolie was made up. If Fraser asked me to introduce them, I'd have nothing for him.

"May I see the cigarettes?"

"Oh, I... I gave them to Ray to get rid of," I said, thanking my lucky stars that I'd given them back before Fraser had a chance to smell them. "You know... he's the head of the family and all. So, he sees it as his responsibility."

"Was he angry?"

"No. Well, maybe a little. But it turned out fine. He even said I was his brother. And he meant it." I felt that tight feeling in my chest again.

"That was very supportive of him," Fraser said, sounding cheerful.

"Yeah. He's pretty cool once you get to know him."

"As I've been trying to tell you."

"I admit it, you were right. Happy?"

"I am."

I smiled a little. I didn't like lying to Fraser, but I'd told him enough of the truth to make it convincing, and I told myself it was a white lie for everyone's good. Still, I hoped I wouldn't have to cover for Ray much longer.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Franny?"

I felt the atmosphere shift before he answered, "Yes, I did."

"And did she understand?"

"I think so."

I remembered what she'd said about asking him for help with self-defense: "I'd just make a fool of myself." Maybe she wanted to avoid him for a while because she knew her fantasy wasn't ever going to come true. "Okay. Thanks for doing that, buddy."

He nodded.

Time to move on from that subject. "Hey, Ray was asking if there are any apartments available at Miz Tate's... I dunno how I feel about living in the same building with him, brother or no brother, but I guess we should ask."

"If neither of us sees her before Monday, I'll ask her then," he offered.

"Okay. You wanna work on your table some more tonight?"

"No; I'll let it dry for now. Perhaps we'll have some time to work on it tomorrow."

"Yeah. We can talk about the Hall murder while we're at it. If you want."

"The cutthroat victim?"

"Yeah. If you're right about it being a pro job—well, an experienced killer—that narrows down the possibilities a little."

* * *

 _There ya go. Nice and awkward. But don't worry, there are lots more angsty situations in my life to exploit for entertainment purposes... give me a break and leave a comment, okay? ~Ray K.  
_


	27. Unexpected Calls

_Haven't had as many readers lately and no comments. Not sure if people are scared off by how long it's getting or what. I mean,_ I'm _a little scared at how long it's getting—I'm working on chapter 45 or so right now. Crazy. ~Ray K.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-seven: Unexpected Calls

The next day, I woke up slow. I winced when I went to roll over. My wrist was sore. So was my hand. I winced again, remembering why. And then there was that nice moment with Franny that had ended with the big throw-down over the cigarettes... which had led to a new level of friendship with Ray. Well, at least that was a pretty good end to the night before. I got up slowly and rolled my neck around, hearing it crack a couple of times. I decided to bother with real coffee again today. I wasn't in a hurry.

I was coming out of the bathroom when my landline rang. I hurried to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hello. This is MacKenzie King. Is this Detective Kowalski speaking? Or should I say Detective Vecchio?"

A little tingle went down my spine. This was the press chick Ray had such strong opinions on. "This is Detective Kowalski," I said, wondering if she could take even that out of context.

"Detective, I understand that you're investigating the Jeffrey Hall murder."

"That's correct," I said, still suspicious.

"I've heard that you were also recently involved in an attempted kidnapping."

"Who says so?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my source. Journalist's privilege. I'd like to interview you if you can spare the time."

I didn't like this. I was supposed to leave talking to the press to Welsh, or at least to my team leader. Whenever someone spoke out of turn, it tended to end badly. "I'd rather not do this over the phone," I stalled. "Uh... It's my day off, so I slept in a little. Can you give me your number and some time to wake up a little more, and I'll call ya back?" I probably sounded really lame.

"I'd rather not wait, especially when two-thirds of the people who say they'll call me back never do."

"Well, it's better than the alternative... I hang up on you right now."

"Don't do that." She gave me her number.

"Okay, Miz King, I'll be back with you soon."

As soon as I hung up, I dialed Ray's house. "Come on," I muttered as the phone rang several times. Finally, Tony picked up.

"Hey, Tony," I said. "It's Ray. Kowalski. Is the other Ray there?"

"They're gone to church," he answered. "Only reason I'm here is 'cause I picked up a work shift today. I was getting ready to go."

"Damn," I whispered. "Okay, uh... thanks anyway, Tony."

Of course they were at church. I knew the Vecchios attended just about every Sunday morning, and they would usually all go. When I became Ray Vecchio, they had all changed to a different church for a while, giving their home church some excuse for why they were trying a different one. It was easier for all of them to make-believe a little bit than to come up with some story for why they were calling someone new "Ray" when half the church members had known him his whole life. I'd gone to the new church with them several times, just to keep up appearances.

I thought about calling Ray's cell phone, but I thought he might kill me if I interrupted the church service. "Uh... come on, come on," I muttered to myself. _Fraser. He knows her._

I pulled on a pair of jeans and ran over to Fraser's door. "Hey, Fraser," I called, knocking. I tried the knob and found that the door was actually unlocked. I went inside and found Fraser in his work jeans and flannel shirt, sitting at the now right-side-up table with a brush in his hand. There was a foodie smell in the air kinda like the cookies I'd smelled in Ms. Tate's place, but the oven wasn't on. There was a pot on the stove. Oatmeal, I guessed.

"Tell me that wasn't unlocked all night," I said, petting Dief, who had run up and licked my hand.

He blinked at me. "It... wasn't?" he said, but it sounded like a question.

"You're lying."

"You told me to tell you."

I shook my head. "Never mind. MacKenzie King wants to interview me. What do I do?"

"Well, uh... you should probably go over your case notes and decide which information is harmless to the general public, and you might want to wear something a little more formal," he said, looking significantly at my undershirt.

"No, I mean... I don't really _want_ to talk to her at all," I said. "But she tracked me down, called me at home—on my day off, I might add. I think she wants to make sure I'll be alone. You know, without anyone around to tell me what I can and can't tell her. I don't think I should do it."

"Then don't do it."

"It's not that simple!"

"Why not?"

"Because if I refuse to see her, she'll just print something like 'When asked for a statement regarding the Hall murder, Detective Kowalski declined to comment.' Something like that. It'll make it sound like I got something to hide."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

I brought my hands up to waist level, curled them into shaking fists and jerked them in the air. "Fraser..."

"Yes?" He looked kinda wide-eyed now, like he could see something bad coming and didn't know how to stop it.

I tried to relax. "Look, I don't wanna do it. How do I get rid of her?"

He also seemed to relax. "Well, you could tell her something diplomatic like... 'I am not at liberty to discuss ongoing investigations. Please direct any questions to my superior."

"Okay. That's good. That might work. You know her... you think it'll work?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly," I repeated. "What if it doesn't?"

He put his brush in the can of stain and put the lid on it. "If it doesn't, you may hand the phone to me," he said, pushing his chair back.

I felt my anxiety going away like bathwater down the drain. "Good. Come on."

We went across to my apartment with Dief trotting after us. I called King back and hit the speaker button on the console.

"Thank you for returning my call so quickly," she said. I have to admit, I found her voice sexy.

...But I refused to be moved. "Miz King, I'm sorry but I can't give you an interview concerning an ongoing investigation."

Before I could say anything about my superior, she said, "In that case, we can talk about your recent undercover work."

"Uh... I can't really do that either," I said, glancing at Fraser, who also looked a little unprepared for that. "Uh, my superior, Lieutenant Welsh, will be at the precinct tomorrow morning. You can ask him about... whatever."

"Yes, I'm sure he will, but has your lieutenant ever been undercover? I'm looking for the inside scoop. The man living on the edge of a knife, as told to MacKenzie King in this exclusive..."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Miz King."

She didn't answer for a second. "Constable Fraser, is that you?" she asked.

"Indeed it is," Fraser said. "My partner informed me that he would be speaking with you, and I'm afraid I've been privy to your entire conversation."

She laughed. "I'll just bet you have. So, are you two living together now? You got there awfully fast."

I shook my head at Fraser, waving my hands desperately. I definitely didn't want her making a story about what she was insinuating.

"No, just nearby," he answered. "If you're so intent on getting a story from someone who's been undercover, why aren't you asking Detective Vecchio for a scoop?"

She sighed. "Oh, I tried. While you were away, your pal Vecchio gave me the impression that he didn't like me very much. He talked to me over the phone once, but he wouldn't give a straight answer to anything. After that, he refused to take my calls. I tried going to see him at the hospital and then at the precinct, but he just pretended I wasn't there. Literally. Like a grade-schooler. So, you know what? I don't really like him, either."

As Fraser started to apologize for Ray's attitude toward her, I said, "Well, that settles it. If Vecchio thinks it's a bad idea to talk to you, I'm not going to, either. Like I said, you can talk to my lieutenant if you want an official statement."

"Don't make an enemy of me, Kowalski."

"Are you threatening me?"

"If I may," Fraser interrupted. "Miz King, Ray is refusing to be interviewed purely for the sake of his duty. And Ray, I'm sure she doesn't mean to seem threatening."

I rolled my eyes.

"Perhaps later on, he might be able to grant an interview, but he is obligated to remain discreet at this juncture."

After a pause, she said, "You're lucky you're so cute, Fraser."

"My grandmother told me the same."

She laughed. "Okay, boys. I'll sniff out some news someplace else for now. But the minute you've got something to say, you come to me, got it?"

"You'll be the first to know," I said, more confident now that she was on the retreat. When she had hung up, I told Fraser, "Thanks for backing me up."

"My pleasure. Care to stain some wood?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Want some coffee?"

"I would have some. Thank you kindly."

I was pouring milk into my coffee when the phone rang again and I almost dropped the jug. I quickly wiped up my little spill with one hand while I grabbed the phone with the other. "Hello?"

"Stanley."

My eyes must have gotten big. "Dad..."

"Son, where the devil have you been?"

"Um... I was gonna call. And then I got this case. And then a friend of mine was almost kidnapped..."

"You've been back for _weeks!_ And you didn't pick up the phone to _tell us?!_ I had to hear this from some reporter woman who's trying to get background on you for a story about your undercover work?"

I cringed. "Uh... I, uh..." This was bad. Really, really bad. I mean, us not communicating wasn't too unusual, except that I'd been in touch with them a lot before Fraser and I went north. Mom was coming over almost daily. I felt kind of stifled by it, really. I did mean to let them know I was back, but so much was going on.

Fraser held out his hand.

"Um, Dad, Fraser's here."

"Don't you try to distract me, young man," my dad growled.

Fraser must have heard, because he pulled his hand back and rubbed his neck instead.

"I'm sorry," I tried again. "It... it's just that some really big things have been going on—"

"Don't you think we'd have liked to know that? For all we knew, you were up in Greenland or someplace..."

"I know, I know," I said, almost pleading with him. "I wanna tell you everything that's been going on. It's just been a lot. Look, why don't you head over here right now and I'll tell you all about it. Everything. Okay?" I'm sure my face was a grimace while I waited on tender hooks for him to answer.

[Fraser says it's "tenterhooks." I don't know what the hell those are, but I'll take his word for it.]

Finally, he said, "Here's your mother."

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Stanley, sweetie..."

"Mom..." I had to stop myself from reminding her to call me Ray. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know you must have been really worried and I should have let you know as soon as we got back. It's just been one thing after another. I told Dad you could come over now if you want. I don't have to go to the station today."

"Well, I think we can do that," she said. "It's good to hear your voice, son."

I kinda teared up then, more out of guilt than because I'd missed them much. "Yeah... I'm really sorry."

Fraser held out his hand again.

"Mom, Fraser's here..."

"Well, if you're having company, we shouldn't impose..."

"No. It's fine. I'll explain everything when you get here, okay?"

Fraser put his hand down.

"Okay. We'll see you soon, sweetheart. Love you."

I hated myself for hesitating. "Love you too," I said, kind of rushing to make up for it. I hung up. "Damn it, damn it, damn it..."

Fraser reached over and patted my shoulder. "I didn't realize they didn't know. I should have asked if you'd been in touch with them yet..."

"No, it's not your fault. I'm their son. I should have called them. Who goes out of the country for over a month and doesn't call his folks when he gets back? Me, that's who."

"You did call them from Canada."

"Yeah... forever ago. Last time I did, we were on King William Island with really bad reception."

"But they're coming over now?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps I should leave."

I shook my head. "No. Please, don't leave."

"Ray, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Easy for you to say—your parents are dead!" I froze. "Uh... sorry, that... that wasn't..."

"It's all right."

"Look, uh... let's work on your table until they get here, okay? I need something to keep me busy."

* * *

Twenty minutes or so later, we heard knocking on my door and I went to open Fraser's. "Over here," I said.

My parents turned around, looking confused.

"Did you change apartments?" Mom asked.

Dad looked inside. "No, I'd say this one is Fraser's, am I right?"

"Yeah, come on in," I said. "Fraser just moved in... that's one of the big things that's been going on. He's been looking for a place for a while, and I told him this one was vacant, so..."

Fraser met us away from the newspaper-covered zone and shook hands with my parents. "It's good to see you again, Mister and Missus Kowalski," he said in his charming way. "I'm terribly sorry that Ray and I failed to alert you when we returned to the states. It's utterly inexcusable."

"I don't blame _you_ ," Dad said pointedly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I repeated, trying to sound more sorry each time. "It took me a while to get stuff in order... my utility bills and my rent and everything... and then I was helping Ray Vecchio wrap up the case he was working on, and then Francesca almost got kidnapped..."

"What?" Mom exclaimed. "Francesca? Is she all right?"

"She's fine."

"Your son was instrumental in seeing that she was unharmed," Fraser put in, smiling. "You should be proud of him."

"Well, we're already proud of him," Mom said. "But... what happened? Was it very dangerous?"

"Um, kinda," I said, not wanting to give her the details. "But we've been trying to nail the guys who set it up, and that's been taking most of my time. Plus, we've got another case now; a murder that looks like one that happened like ten years ago or something."

"I believe it was eight years," Fraser corrected.

"Is that the man with the cut throat?" Dad asked, and Mom made this real squeamish expression. She's not so good with stuff like that. "I read about it in the paper. Vecchio's handling that case, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but he's my supervisor now, so we're working on it together."

Mom smiled at that. "The two Ray Vecchios, working together. And you still have your Mountie friend."

"Yeah. Still unofficial, but still one of the best guys we have working with us."

"Thank you, Ray," said Fraser.

I shrugged. "You know it's true."

Fraser invited them to sit down and got talking to my dad about the table. Before long, we were taking turns with the stain brushes and things got less tense. We told them about our adventures in Canada. There was really too much to tell all at once. Even though Dad didn't seem totally ready to forgive me, he did seem to understand just how much I'd been dealing with since coming home.

When it got to be lunchtime, Mom offered to make us something.

"No, Barbara," Dad said quickly. "We don't want to impose on Constable Fraser."

"It's no imposition," Fraser said, "but I'm afraid I don't have many ingredients available with which to cook. I'd planned to have a sandwich for lunch."

"I can always cook in Stanley's apartment," she suggested.

"Uh, Mom... it's kind of messy in there," I said, knowing how she'd scold me when she saw the place.

"We'll come again some other time," said Dad. "Just don't wait so long to call us, next time," he said to me.

"Yeah, I... I won't," I said, feeling guilty again.

Mom hugged me tight and kissed my cheek. "We're so glad you're home safe. And Benton, too."

"I know. I'll call you soon."

I shook my dad's hand... I thought at first he wasn't going to offer it to me.

"You two take care," he said, not quite looking me in the eye.

"Okay, Dad."

I closed the door after them, leaned on it and shut my eyes. "Why do I screw everything up, Fraser?"

"I can't give you a reason for something that doesn't exist, Ray."

"Huh?"

"You don't screw everything up."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Sandwich?"

"Sure."

* * *

 _Enjoying the ride? Let me know. ~Ray K.  
_


	28. Recurring Dreams

_If you're reading this, thanks for sticking with it. Let me know you're doing more than skimming and leave a comment. ~Ray K.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-eight: Recurring Dreams

After lunch I went back over to my place to clean up some more. I was sure my mom would be back over in the morning, insisting on ironing my shirts and stuff. I didn't want her to see how I'd let the place go in the couple weeks I'd been home. I hoped she wouldn't start bugging Fraser now that she knew he lived across from me.

I was thinking about taking a break anyway when Ray called.

"Your landlady saw Tate," he told me. "He's really changed his tune. He's never seen De Luca or Passero in person, but he'll know Passero's voice, and he can back up most of Tanner's evidence."

"That's great," I said. Then I asked, "How's the report coming?"

"Eh, it's a little rough, but I think I can spin the happy ending to make up for it."

"Worth a try," I said. "Hey, I wanted to call you this morning, but you were at church... MacKenzie King called me."

"What's she want? Your life story on a silver platter?"

"Not quite, but... she wanted an interview on the Hall case. When I said no to that, she wanted to talk about my undercover work. I thought Fraser and I put her off all that, but then I find out she tracked down my _parents_ and was trying to get something out of them. She's kinda... aggressive."

"Uh-huh. Don't let her sink her fangs in you, kid. You give her an inch—'nough said."

"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought. Hey, um... what's she like in person?"

"Ugh. A nightmare."

"But... is she pretty?"

"No, no, no, Kowalski, don't even think about it. That is the path of career suicide, sleeping with the enemy. Cops and journalists don't mix. You hear me? Say it with me. Cops..."

"Cops and journalists don't mix," I repeated with him.

"Don't you forget it. Or I will sucker-punch you next time I see you."

"All right, I get it. I was just asking." _'Cause her voice was hot. I'll ask Fraser._

"I don't think you do get it. Until you've had a reporter hounding you, you won't understand. You don't have to do anything wrong to lose your reputation, bro. Someone just has to print it."

I was slightly distracted by the fact that he called me "bro." I was pretty sure that was new. "...Right," I said, catching up with what he was saying. It made sense. "Don't worry. I won't talk to her. I'll keep telling her to talk to Welsh."

"And if that doesn't work, give her the silent treatment."

"Got it."

* * *

By suppertime, the apartment was looking pretty decent. I got out a box of macaroni and filled a pot with water and noodles. Then I went across the hall and knocked before letting myself in.

"Come—" Fraser stopped, seeing that I hadn't waited for his invitation. He was sitting on his couch, holding a book.

"Seriously, anyone could just walk in and shoot you," I said.

"Oh, Ray. The chances of that happening..."

"I'm making mac an' cheese for supper. You want some?"

Dief barked.

"Yeah, I might be able to spare a little for you," I said to him.

Fraser looked at his watch. "My, the time has slipped away. Yes, we'd be glad to join you."

"Will the table be ready for another coat soon? 'Cause I'm wide open."

"It's not like paint, Ray. A table doesn't need six coats of stain. But we can touch up the details and then stain the chairs to match. I'll just need to sand down a few rough spots."

"Sounds good," I said. "I'll let you know when supper's ready."

I told Fraser about Ray's call while we ate. "Sounds like we've got some strong witnesses now. De Luca should be going down for a while, and this may be enough cause for the police in Vegas to get a warrant to search his home and investigate his business."

"Let's hope so. The more charges brought against him, the longer he'll be off the streets."

"And the safer Ray and his family will be," I said.

"Exactly."

"Hey, I was wondering about MacKenzie King... what does she look like?"

Fraser made a thoughtful face. "On first acquaintance, she struck me as a no-nonsense sort. Dark hair, strategically accentuated curvature..."

A smile sprouted on my face. It was hilarious to hear him say stuff like that, and the mental image was fun.

"...but then the last time I saw her, she had drastically changed her look. She'd gone blonde and seemed to be purporting a sweeter, more wholesome tone."

"Oh, yeah?"

He leaned toward me just an inch or two. "But you mustn't be fooled." He said it so seriously, it was all I could do to keep from laughing in his face.

"No?"

He shook his head. "She wants to do the right thing in the end, but journalism is her first love. She can be a valuable ally, but also a dangerous enemy."

"Sounds about like Ray's opinion."

I gave what little was leftover to Diefenbaker, who looked kind of disappointed. "Sorry, but those boxes hold 'two-point-five servings.' And their opinion of a serving isn't my opinion of a serving. Maybe I'll make two boxes next time."

"I assure you, Dief gets enough dog food to eat. Everything else is a treat. And it was enough for me, thank you."

"Well, if you've got any room left," I said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a package of Oreos, "I got these."

Dief instantly perked up.

"There's chocolate in it," I snapped at the wolf.

He grumbled and lay down on the floor.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up in the middle of another nightmare. It wasn't the drowning one this time. It was Beth Botrelle. She was back on death row for no reason. And then, when I was hurrying to the governor's office to appeal to his sense of decency, I ran over a dog. I got out of the GTO and went over to it and saw that it wasn't dead. It was my old dog, Jack. I scooped him up in my arms and some part of him fell back on the ground. Like, unattached. That's not how it happened in real life, but dreams do weird sh*t sometimes. I was trying to somehow get all the pieces of him into my car when I woke up to knocking.

I squinted at my alarm clock. Almost 7:30. It would have gone off soon, anyway. I was pulling my pants on when I heard a little rattle and the front door opening. I zipped up and opened my bedroom door. My mom and Fraser were coming in together, Dief bounding ahead of them.

The wolf ran up to me and jumped up with his paws on my stomach, licking the air in the direction of my face.

"Hey, buddy," I mumbled, petting Dief's head. "What's this, a convention?" I asked the other two.

Fraser looked a little sheepish. "Well... Diefenbaker seemed... a bit eager to see you, as he was the other night," he said carefully. "And while we were waiting for you to open the door, your mother arrived with the key, so..."

"Mom, give Fraser your key," I said. "He's more likely to need it than you are. If you insist on coming over early to iron my clothes, he can let you in if I'm not up... I guarantee he will be. Early riser."

"But Stanley," she protested.

"Ray. I've told you, call me Ray."

"I'm sorry, honey. I keep forgetting."

"Uh-huh." I was in a pretty rotten mood from my dream, knowing Dief had alerted Fraser about it again, and my mom's... mothering.

"Have you had breakfast yet?"

"How could I? I just got dragged out of bed by my mom, a Mountie and a wolf. God, that sounds like the beginning of a really bad joke. Joke's on me." I trudged across to the bathroom door. Dief tried to follow me.

I turned around and took his furry face in my hands. "I'm fine," I told him.

He went back to Fraser and I shut myself in the bathroom. I could hear them talking about me. I blocked it out.

When I came out, I was a little calmer. The dream was fading and I didn't have to pee and I'd scrubbed my face. Mom was frying eggs and the coffee pot was going. I went to sit by Fraser on one of my bar stools and watched her. "Sorry," I said, not looking at anyone.

"Oh, it's all right, dear," Mom said. "You're just tired. Benton tells me you have a big day today."

"Yeah... have to go to court for an arraignment. Or four." _And turn in my badge and gun,_ I thought dismally.

"Would you like me to pack you a lunch?"

"You don't have to do that."

"It's no trouble. I know you'll just end up getting something unhealthy from a fast food place if I don't."

I sighed. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

"Home-made lunches are usually healthier and more cost-effective than purchased prepared food," Fraser put in.

"Mhm. So, um... is Dad still mad at me?"

"He's not mad."

"He was."

"He really missed you, Sta—Ray. We moved out here to be near you, you know."

"I know, but... it's not like I asked you to." I knew that sounded really ungrateful, but it was true. I felt like it wasn't fair for them to guilt me over a decision they made, especially when they'd stayed away for so long, and not even discussed their move with me.

"Perhaps I should..." Fraser started, moving like he was going to get up.

I put my hand firmly on his shoulder. "Stay."

"Very well..."

"I know you didn't," Mom said, flipping the eggs onto a plate. "And I know you and your dad have been a little... well, he's really trying to make things better. I think he's just a bit frustrated."

 _And I'm not?_ But I got what she was saying. "Yeah." I took the plate from her and picked up the fork she'd put out for me. "You eaten?" I asked Fraser.

"Yes, thank you," he answered.

I felt something on my thigh and looked down to see that it was Dief's paw.

"And so has Dief," Fraser said quickly.

Dief fussed.

I shrugged. "Sorry, pal. Alpha has spoken."

* * *

When my mom finally let me go (I didn't escape without an ironed shirt and a kiss on the cheek), I drove Fraser and Dief to the consulate. We didn't talk much until Fraser brought up my dream, asking if Dief had been right to get him to wake me.

"Eh... it's just one of those recurring dreams that won't leave me alone," I said. "Remember I told you I had a dog? His name was Jack. He was dying again in my dream... only this time I'm the one who hit him." I left out the part about Beth Botrelle.

"That must have been very unpleasant for you," Fraser said, sounding sympathetic.

Dief put his head on my shoulder.

"Loved that dog," I said. "He wasn't very smart, and not much to look at, but..."

"But he was a friend."

"Yeah."

"Have you thought about getting another dog?"

"Nah, I don't have the time. I couldn't get away with taking a pet around everywhere like you do."

Dief lifted his head, staring at me in the rearview mirror.

"Sorry, I know you're not a pet," I told him.

He put his head back down.

"Perhaps you could request a K-nine partner," Fraser suggested.

"Hm. I never thought of that. It's not really normal for a homicide detective, though. I don't know of any detectives in our division that have them."

"It could be worth looking into."

"Maybe."

"You know, I had a strange dream last night, myself."

"Oh, yeah?" Fraser was already pretty strange. I couldn't imagine what his dreams were like.

"You remember the Netsilik Inuit we encountered at Gjoa Haven?"

"Uh... yeah. Gjoa Haven, population less than a thousand. Netsilik, highest rate of homicide in the Arctic. How could I forget?"

"You remember the ancient igloos outside the settlement?"

"Yeah. They had to dig them out every time it snowed to maintain their tourist attraction. 'See the hundred-year-old igloos. Buy a soapstone carving. Try raw seal.' I remember."

"You remember the graves?"

"Uh-huh. That was the weirdest part. They had to dig _those_ out every time, too. Digging up graves on a regular basis. Queer. And those white rocks. Where did they get them? Did they pack snowballs until they turned into rocks?"

"That's physically impossible, Ray."

"Yeah, yeah. What was your dream about?"

"Well, I dreamed I was looking at the grave of the unnamed Inuit woman... something was wrong with it."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what happened?"

"Oh, Diefenbaker started digging it up and you were inside."

"Me?"

"Yes... in reality, Dief had gone to sniff at his food bowl, and hearing him moving around, I believe that my subconscious mixed the dream with the memory of him waking you from a nightmare. When you emerged from the grave you said something to the effect of 'it's about time' and then you brewed a cup of coffee."

I raised one eyebrow. "And then?"

"At that point, the dream was too bizarre to pursue, so I woke up."

"Huh. Well, this is your stop... maybe I can think of a good interpretation for you by the time court convenes... are you coming to the arraignment?"

"Ray asked me to come, since there's a small possibility I could be called."

"Okay. I can come by and pick you up when it's time."

* * *

"All right, here's the lineup," Welsh told me and Ray in his office. "Tanner and Tate are being charged first. That's at about ten o'clock. Hopefully they'll both get through before lunch and we can have a break and then go back to wait for Passero and De Luca to get in there."

We nodded to show we understood.

"Kowalski," he said, holding up some papers that I knew was Ray's detailed report on what had happened over the weekend, "I'm going to let you keep your badge and gun for now, because I wouldn't want you to have to explain anything should the judge call you today."

I nodded again.

"But once we get out of court and come back here, I need you to hand them over. I'm giving you a two-week suspension with possibility of coming back early if, uh... if you prove that you've got your head on straight."

"He means 'if we really, really need you,'" Ray put in.

"Yes, sir."

"I trust your sergeant has already made it clear that we don't allow our detectives to make horses' asses of themselves in this division."

"I got the message, sir."

"Good. Now, get your notes together, make sure you're one hundred percent ready for anything you might happen to get asked, including what you had for breakfast, and then we'll get over to the courthouse."

"How'd the interview go with Passero?" I asked Ray as we headed for our desks.

"Huey played good cop for me. Passero played hardball," he answered.

"Get anything out of him?"

"Nothing verbal, but his poker tells were saying he had a lot to be nervous about."

* * *

 _Again, thanks for reading. How about giving me something to read? ~Ray K.  
_


	29. Convince Me

_Great to hear from you again, Nutmeg9cat! Having an 'active listener' makes telling the story much more worthwhile. I'm interested to see what you'll think of the way this chapter goes.  
_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-nine: Convince Me

Court proceedings bore the hell out of me, especially when I'm not needed for most of it. And being so bored and having Stella in my line of vision is not a good mix. Had to make myself not stare.

As lead detective on the case, Ray gave our prisoners' indictments to the judge, who asked about the the request for leniency. He explained that Tate and Tanner were cooperating with us in pursuing the men who had hired them, and Stella gave the District Attorney's Office's position. Etc, etc.

The courtroom wasn't real full. [ _Very_ full. Happy, Fraser?] I hoped that meant it wouldn't take too long to get through all the charges the judge had to hear that day.

We finally broke for lunch, and me, Ray, Fraser, Franny and Stella all ended up in the same diner. I left my mom's lunch in the car and told Fraser I'd eat it later, so he wouldn't lecture me about being wasteful and ungrateful. He and Ray sat at the end of our table. Franny hung back like she wasn't sure who to sit by, so I sat beside Fraser and Stella sat across from me. Franny slid in next to Stella.

"Things are going pretty good," Ray said while a server passed us glasses of water. "We made good on our deals, our guys' bail isn't too high, so they should be able to stay out on parole between now and trial time. That should keep 'em happy."

"You think they'll keep out of trouble?" Stella asked.

"Well, the one seems like a pretty good kid, and the other... we know his mommy." He snickered.

"Let's hope things go as well with the bigger fish."

"Yeah... I'm sure they'll have brought their lawyers. It could be tricky."

Franny and I didn't contribute much to the conversation. I was feeling awkward sitting across from Stella, and I think Franny was sick of the case.

We placed our orders and after twenty minutes or so, the first ones came out. A few minutes after that, we were all eating, and we talked less. I guess that didn't keep Stella from noticing I was avoiding looking at her, though.

"Ray?"

I glanced up to make sure she was talking to me. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

I nodded.

"How's your hand?"

I smirked a little. "Uh... not bad. A little sore."

She nodded and looked back at her food.

"Thanks for asking," I added.

* * *

As Ray predicted, Passero and De Luca had brought along some pretty sharp lawyers. They did their best to make it sound like we'd fabricated all of our evidence and not produced enough of it. They questioned Tate and Tanner's credibility, saying that they were likely accusing their clients in order to protect the "real instigators" of the crime. In spite of protests from both Ray and Stella, and a pretty good speech from Welsh, the judge still told them that they could use the time between the arraignment and trial to look for new evidence to clear their clients, or to warrant an investigation into our conduct. We'd come to the right conclusions, and mostly via the right methods, but I knew if they found out I'd hit one of the witnesses, that would be seriously bad news.

We had a brief meeting back at Welsh's office. He made sure we all knew what was going on, and to watch out for anyone we didn't know at the station who was asking too many questions, including people we brought in on new charges. Anyone could be a spy.

He told Stella and Franny they could go and then told me, "This time away from your badge and gun, Kowalski... Since as far as we're concerned, Tate didn't resist arrest, and as far as he's concerned, you didn't assault him, I'm going to call your time off 'sick leave.' Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I recommend you go ahead and cut today short. Start your vacation now and it'll be well behind you by the time Passero and De Luca come up for trial. It'll also make it harder for those legal weasels to find fault with your work if you're not working."

"You don't think the, uh... 'weasels' will smell a rat?"

"They might, but just make sure there isn't one for them to find."

I nodded, resigned to my fate. "I'll try to keep my cell close in case you need something from me."

"Do that."

Fraser left the office with me.

"So, back to the consulate, or home, good buddy?" I asked him.

He started to answer but paused, looking at Francesca, who was rubbing her hands together at her desk. He walked over to her. "Are you all right?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah," she answered. "It's just the air conditioning blows right in front of my desk and my hands get cold on the keyboard."

"Perhaps a pair of thin or fingerless gloves might help."

"Yeah, maybe."

He smiled and walked back over to me.

"So, which is it?" I asked.

"I'd prefer fingerless, with a flap that can be put over the fingers in case of..."

"No, no! Not the gloves. The consulate, or home?"

He kind of stared through me, and it weirded me out. "Fraser?"

"She would need to be kept warm..."

"What? Who?"

He started walking, and I, of course, followed him. "Who, Fraser? What are you talking about?"

"The grave, Ray. The unnamed Inuit woman. I figured out what was wrong with it."

"Okay, so what was wrong with it?"

"The days were getting longer, so sunset was still a good way off, but the sun was slightly behind me as I faced the grave... The white stone faced north."

"Okay... so, was it different? Between your dream and what you saw when we were there?"

"No, they were just the same. But I didn't realize anything was amiss until the dream reminded me. The stone marks the head of the grave. It faced north."

"What's wrong with that? It makes sense."

He shook his head emphatically. "The Inuit don't bury their women facing north, Ray. Not the ones who lived there at the time those graves were made, anyway. Since missionaries brought the English language and Christian customs to the Inuit, much of their traditional culture has fallen by the wayside..."

"Okay, enough with the history lesson. Focus. Why wouldn't they have buried her facing north?"

"Because women get cold more easily than men. They would have wanted the Southern sun to face her, to keep her warm longer."

"But she's dead! What difference does it make?"

"I assure you, to an Inuit of the time, it would make a good deal of difference."

"Okay, so maybe they forgot over time... like you said, English-speaker customs and stuff. Or maybe they said it was a woman because they thought the tourists would like it better."

"I suspect that's exactly right, Ray. By the time no one remembered exactly who was in the grave, they decided to invent a legend to please the few tourists who came to the region." He pushed open the outer door and we stepped outside. "We have to go back."

I stopped walking. "What? Are you _unhinged?!"_

"I assure you, I'm not."

"Why the hell do we have to go back just to tell the folks of Gjoa Haven that they have some dishonest, profiteering Inuit living on their outskirts? What with the high homicide rate, I don't think they'll find it all that urgent. A postcard will probably be enough... 'Hey, guess what? The "unnamed Inuit" is actually a dude, not a chick...'" Fraser was almost to my car now, across the lot. "Fraser!" I shouted, irritated that he'd walked on while I was talking to him.

The GTO was locked, so at least he couldn't get in before I got there. I shot him a dirty look. "What's the big deal?"

"It's not just that he's male, Ray. He may not even be Inuit."

We got into the car.

"So, what... you think someone may have hidden their murder victim there?" I asked, starting to take him more seriously.

"Perhaps. Or, if the grave is as old as they claim, someone may have buried John Franklin there."

I had been about to put the car in gear, but I stopped when he said that. "Whoa... that's a stretch, isn't it? I mean, so it's not who they say it is... that doesn't mean it's the one guy from all of history that we were looking for. Besides, the grave is way far on the other side of the town. Why would they carry him so far from the ship just to bury him?"

"For one thing, the ships anchored on the northwest side of the island, nowhere near present-day Gjoa Haven. And I can think of a good reason they'd have taken his body along when they abandoned the ship."

"Ugh, don't tell me... they wanted to save him for a snack."

"Well, there is strong evidence that members of the party did eat one another."

"That is so gross."

"But I was considering the possibility that they hoped to return his remains to his wife, who was very devoted to him."

"Okay, so, say you're right. They took him along, either for trail mix, or to to take him back to civilization... once they found the locals, why didn't they get some help?"

"Gjoa Haven wasn't yet established, and unlike its founder, Roald Amundsen, Franklin's crew were less willing to ask for help from a people they considered too primitive with whom to associate."

"So, they'd rather starve and freeze to death than say, 'Hey! You know how to keep from starving and freezing to death?'"

"I'm afraid so."

"Trust the British to be stuck-up to the bitter end."

"It's really not fair to judge an entire nationality by one nineteenth-century exploration party, Ray. Besides, their judgment was likely hindered by lead poisoning and scurvy."

"But how would Franklin end up being re-christened 'the unnamed Inuit woman'? And why?"

"Please, start for the consulate. We can discuss this on the way. We need to pick up Dief and then get packed as soon as possible."

"Packed?"

"Haven't you heard what I've been saying?"

"Yeah, but... we can't just up and leave—again."

"Why not? You're on sick leave; I have vacation time coming."

My head was reeling. Deep down, something was stirring in me... a spark of excitement. I tried to stamp it out. "But my parents would kill me... they just found out I'm back in town."

"I'm sure that they'll understand, given the circumstances." He's such an optimist.

I thought about Franny. "But I promised this friend of mine that I'd help them with something... I can't leave right now."

"I can help you do whatever it is... I'm sure the three of us can take care of it quickly and we can be on our way." There was the optimism again.

"It's not really that kind of a thing. I can't."

"Perhaps you could help your friend when we come back."

"Fraser, _I can't."_

He got quiet and I put the car in gear. I'd driven a couple of blocks when he said, "I don't want to go without you..."

"I don't want you to go without me, either." I stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to close my eyes for a few seconds. I was tired and my emotions had been all over the place today. I sighed and opened my eyes. "Look... suppose you convince me we have reason to believe Franklin might be in the grave. And suppose I work something out with my friend. You think the Netsilik are gonna let us wreck their tourist attraction? Or that the Gjoa Haven officials are gonna be happy about us digging up a grave on their turf?"

"Depending on the outcome of the exhumation, the tourist attraction might become even more lucrative due to the discovery. As for the officials, I would make a request through the proper channels. With good fortune, it might be granted by the time we got there."

I wrestled with the idea for a while. "It's so cold up there..."

"But we're coming into summer, so the days will be longer."

"Whoop-dee-doo. So, it'll be thirty degrees instead of twenty."

"In Fahrenheit, perhaps," Fraser muttered.

"I heard that."

"We managed last time."

"My fingers started to turn blue. I thought I was going to lose them."

"But you didn't."

I pulled up in front of the consulate. No, I hadn't lost any fingers or toes, thank god. And thank Fraser... he'd kept me from losing them to frostbite. And I was sure he could take care of me in those conditions again. But that didn't make it sound like a nice vacation. Still... what if he was right? What if that really was Franklin buried there, and we didn't go because I didn't feel like it? I would wonder for the rest of my life.

"Go get your wolf," I said. "And then... convince me."

* * *

His reasoning was OK, but he didn't have proof. Anyone could have been in that grave—or no one. And part of me thought if we went back up there, Fraser's dream would come true, and I'd end up being the one in the grave. But another part of me was starting to die of curiosity. I couldn't let it go.

"Let me talk to that friend I mentioned," I said. "I'll call 'em tonight and we'll see. I'm not promising."

"I understand."

"And even if that works out, I still gotta figure out what to tell my parents."

"I can explain my theory to them, if you think it would help."

"Uh... maybe. But I do want you to be there when I tell them. If we do go."

"Then I will be."

At least I wouldn't have to face that alone. If Fraser was the one explaining things, maybe my dad would blame him and not yell at me so much.

We got home and split up. I went to the landline and dialed Francesca's extension at the station. I knew Fraser was sure to be packing. Not that he had much to pack. He always traveled light.

"Twenty-seventh precinct, Francesca speaking."

"Franny, it's Ray."

"Hey. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Well... maybe something." I suddenly realized I had no idea how to explain this. "This is gonna sound crazy, but Fraser had this idea about one of those places we visited in the Arctic Circle... an island off the coast of Canada. Long story short, he has a new hunch about where the grave of John Franklin might be."

"Really? That's cool..."

"Yeah, except he wants to go check it out."

"What—now?"

"As soon as we can get away."

"You'd be going, too? Again?"

"I know, I know. It's just that... we started that adventure together, and we need to finish it together. I can't explain..."

"I get it. It's a Lone Ranger and Pronto thing."

"Tonto."

"Pronto, Tonto, Ianto... what's the difference?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, but yeah. Some'n like that. The point is... I know I promised to help you with your self-defense class, and I want to do that. I'm just not sure... I mean, Fraser wants to leave ASAP, so..."

"How long would you be gone?"

"I'm not sure. Hopefully not more than two weeks, 'cause that's how long Welsh gave me."

"Yeah... if you're late getting back, he'll blow a gasket. You were gone so long last time..."

"Right. So, I hope not longer than that. If you wanna come to my place tonight, I could at least get an idea of where you're at and give you something to work on while I'm gone."

"Um... Gee, this is really..."

"Sudden. I know," I said, plenty of regret in my voice. "I'm sorry."

She lowered her voice. "Well, is your place the only place available...?"

"Unless you know someplace better. I guess we could go to the gym where I work out sometimes..."

"No, I don't want to risk someone I know seeing me. I guess I can go to your place."

"It's actually clean right now. And Fraser's across the hall, so you know it's a hundred percent safe."

"Okay, but I don't want Fraser to know I'm there, either."

"I'll try, but I can't guarantee he won't figure it out. I mean... he might smell you in the air or something."

She laughed quietly. "I wouldn't put it past him. I guess if he does figure it out, it won't be so bad to just tell him the truth. Just make sure he won't tell anyone else."

"Will do."

"Okay. Should I eat before I come?"

I glanced at the clock. It was a little after four. She'd be clocking off in an hour or so. "Uh..." _Don't try to treat this like a date. She made it clear she doesn't want that._ "If you think you'll get hungry, yeah. But I doubt we'll need more than an hour."

"'Kay. I'll probably just eat something light."

"Sounds good. I'll see you later."

I realized as I hung up that I was planning as if we were definitely going. That was crazy. I'd just gotten out of the freeze-dried North, and now I was going back? _How does Fraser do this to me?_

* * *

 _I bet you didn't see that coming. Now you know how I felt. ~Ray K.  
_


	30. The Lesson

_My dear Nutmeg (may I call you Nutmeg?), so good to hear from you again so soon! And what is life, but a bunch of stories coming together, am I right? I've thought about getting RayV in here to write some of his perspective, but for gosh sakes, this thing is growing fast enough already! Maybe he can do his own thing in a separate story eventually.  
_

 _Hope you like the new chapter! ~Ray K._

* * *

Chapter Thirty: The Lesson

I rearranged my furniture so Franny and I would have plenty of room to move. We were both kind of awkward when she got to the apartment, not knowing what to say. I hung up her jacket for her. She was wearing track pants and a T-shirt, and I think it was the most dressed-down I'd ever seen her. It was cute.

"I can't believe you guys are leaving again," she said, following me onto the living room carpet.

"Well, it's not for-sure yet," I said, but I felt pretty committed to it.

"When would you go? You won't let Fraser disappear without saying goodbye, right?"

"Nope. Once we have a departure time, we'll let you know."

"Okay." She rubbed her arm, looking around my apartment. Even though she'd dutifully pretended to be my sister for so long, she'd never had reason to come over before.

"So, um... what were you having trouble with?"

She sighed. "Everything."

"Okay, well let's see your stance."

She moved her feet apart a little and put up her fists.

"Okay, you're really tense."

"Isn't that normal when you're facing someone who wants to hurt you?"

"Normal, yeah. But it's not what you want. That's what training is for. Bend your knees a little... think like you're about to sit down, but you suspect Little Tony might be about to pull the chair away."

Her legs suddenly became nice and springy.

"Perfect. How's that feel?"

"Pretty good. See, that makes sense."

I smiled. "Good. Now, keep your arms kind of elastic, too, and try to always guard with one hand, even while you're throwing a hit." I slightly repositioned her hands. "And kinda tuck your chin a little. Don't give him a target. There ya go."

"Have you taught someone this stuff before?"

"Uh... I've coached boxing, but it's not the same thing."

"Oh, yeah. Well, you seem good at getting ideas across."

That was one of the nicest things she'd ever said to me. "Thanks. That's probably more from being a dancer. You know, fighting's a lot like dancing. Only more... dramatic."

She laughed. "I dunno. Have you tried tango?"

"True," I said, smiling. "You dance?"

"Not for a while, but yeah."

I had to stop myself from getting excited about that. She was here for a self-defense lesson, not a dance lesson. I grabbed a throw pillow off the sofa. "Here," I said, holding it up in front of her. "Throw a punch."

She tried. Her hand barely touched it. "Gah... my aim is so bad!"

"It's okay. Um... how about this: Imagine there's a line from you out to your target. You have to throw your fist down that line. Or up... like if you're aiming for the nose of someone taller than you—you'd point your nose at his and connect with your fist. Got it?"

"I think so."

"Okay. Try again."

This time she gave the pillow a solid hit. "Hey! I did it!"

I grinned and gave her a high five. "You got this. I think you're really just trying too hard, expecting it to just magically come to you eventually. The truth is, you need to slow down a little and trust yourself more. It is gut instinct, but you need solid practice as a foundation. Then it'll come to you when you need it."

She looked really happy, like she'd just sunk her first pool ball or hit the bullseye with a dart. "All this time, there was nothing wrong with me."

"Well, that's debatable."

She snatched the pillow from me and hit me over the head with it.

I laughed. "Okay, I was just joking. Come on, let's go again."

After a while, I had her try throwing two punches in a row, reminding her to get her guard back up as soon as she'd landed. She improved until she started to get overwhelmed, and then she got her rhythm off and ended up stopping with one arm extended instead of both back in front of her.

"Time for a break," I said. I led her over to the kitchen and pointed at the bar. "Have a seat, kid."

She hopped on one of the stools and waited while I got her a glass of water.

"I think you're doing fine," I said. "Just practice what I showed you, and if you feel like you've got that down good, get someone to hold a pad for you and move it around so you can try aiming for a moving target."

"Okay." She drank half the water in her glass. She'd worked up a little bit of a sweat and the ends of her hair stuck to her face. "What?"

I shook my head, smiling apologetically. "I've just never seen you so normal before."

She snorted. "You tell anyone, I'll kill you."

"My lips are sealed. Hey, if you practice with a moving target, make sure you move your feet, not just your upper body. I used to tell some of my boxers they were putting down roots if they didn't move their feet. You know, bob and weave."

"Who are they? Kids you trained?"

I had to turn around and get myself a glass of water to keep from laughing at her. "Uh, no... it's a strategy. You know..." I set my glass down and demonstrated, getting low and moving back and forth. "Bob and weave."

"Oh! Right. Um... what about getting loose when someone grabs you?"

"It depends on how they grab you. One strategy is to use their strength against them. Another is to prey on their weaknesses."

"How do you know their weaknesses?"

"There are some that almost all people have, and you should definitely learn those. Like, it's easy for someone to pull their arm in this way." I put my arm across my chest. "But the muscles it takes to push out the opposite way don't usually get as much use. So, you know that's a weakness."

"What if someone grabs you from behind? He's got one arm around your neck... or something..." She suddenly seemed like she was being evasive.

I came around the bar. "Show me," I said.

"Well, I'll need something to stand on," she said, chuckling.

I went over to the couch and pulled a briefcase out from under it. "Good enough?"

"Okay." She stood on the briefcase on its side and I stood in front of it. She put her right arm across my neck, grabbing my left arm with the other hand. "Like this."

I knew this was the way Tate had grabbed her after she bit his hand. "If I couldn't shake the grip, I'd try to turn my head toward their elbow to take pressure off my windpipe. If I had any wiggle room at all, I'd go for bashing them in the nose with my head."

"What if he was a lot taller than you?"

"You can try to elbow him in the gut, or take out one of his legs..." I stuck my foot back between her feet and hooked one of her ankles.

"Whoa..." She squeezed me tighter to keep from falling off the briefcase.

I put my foot back on the floor. "Or you can try to stomp his instep or back-kick a kneecap."

"Oo."

"Or, if all else fails... I hate to say it, but reach back between his legs and get your nails into whatever you can find there."

"Ew!"

"And twist."

"Owww..."

"He gave up his right to a dignified, pain-free life when he assaulted you. Go for it."

She let go of me and I turned around. She was kind of giggling with wide eyes, like she couldn't believe I'd said that and wasn't sure whether it was OK to find it funny.

I smiled at her. "So, you think you got enough for now?"

"Yeah, I think so." She looked down at her feet on the briefcase and back at me. "So, this is what it's like at your eye-level. Huh."

"Yup."

"Well, no wonder you think you're above it all."

"Psh, I'm not that tall. You're just small." I almost reached up to pat her on the head, but stopped myself halfway and ran my hand through my hair instead.

She cleared her throat and hopped off the briefcase. "Well, thanks..."

"Yeah, no problem. I wanna see some progress when I come back, okay?"

"Okay." She slipped her shoes on while I got her jacket.

"I'll walk you to your... did you drive here?"

"Nah, I got a cab."

"Do you want a ride home?"

"You don't have to do that."

I didn't like not knowing who would be taking her home, especially after all that had happened. "I know I don't..." I said. "But would you _let_ me?"

She looked a little surprised. "Okay," she said finally. "It's not dark out yet, is it?"

"Nope. I can let you out a little distance away if you want and watch you from my car."

She nodded and I opened the door, stepping back to let her out first. "Aw, screw it," she said. "Just drive me up to the house. Who cares? You're family, right?"

I smiled a little. "Something like that. Kind of in the doghouse right now, though."

"Eh. I think Ma's almost over the cigarette thing. You'd just better not pull anything like that again."

"I know." I knew I had to tell her how I felt before Fraser and I left. It wasn't going to be easy, considering I still wasn't sure how I felt. When we all thought Franny was getting married, I had pitied whoever the guy was, thinking that dealing with her every single day would be unbearable. But I was starting to think it wouldn't be so bad. Just tonight I'd gotten a glimpse of something in her that I'd never seen before, and I had a feeling there was a whole lot more under the surface. And Fraser was right: she had a good heart. That goes a long way.

We were in the car when she said, "It was you, right?"

"Huh? What?"

"You're the one who brought the cigarettes to the house."

"Yeah."

"When did you get the chance to give them to Papa?"

"Um..." I thought back carefully, trying to remember if there was any time I could have been with the old man when Franny wasn't around. "I think it was after supper, right before I went to read to the girls," I said.

"What did he say when you gave them to him?"

"I don't know, Franny. I don't remember. I just wanna put the whole thing behind me, okay?"

"What did Ray say to you?"

"Nothing."

"That's weird. 'Cause my brother likes to talk."

"Please, just drop this." I was getting _very_ uncomfortable. I didn't think it would be so bad to let her in on what really happened, but I couldn't do that. It wasn't my secret. "I'm sorry... I'm not mad at you or anything. You have reason to be mad at me. But if you want to know what Ray said to me, you should just ask him. He'll tell you."

"You think?"

"Sure."

To my relief, she didn't ask any more questions about it.

I got out and walked her up onto the porch for the second time, hoping it wasn't a bad idea this time around.

"You wanna come in?" Franny asked, and when I looked up, I could see she looked kind of mischievous.

"Ha, I don't think so. Thanks all the same."

"Okay." She surprised me with a hug. "Thanks for the lesson."

"You're welcome," I said, hugging her back.

"Sorry I gave you the second degree in the car..."

I shrugged. "Forget it. And uh... pretty sure it's the third degree."

"Second, third, fourth... whatever." She kissed my cheek. "Good night, bro. Don't forget to tell me when you're leaving."

"I won't."

* * *

I spent the drive home trying to figure out how I would tell Franny I wanted to go out with her, and how I would explain to my parents that I was going away again. I wasn't in a very good mood by the time I got there.

I had just gotten my door unlocked when Fraser opened his.

"Ah, you're back."

I stared at him a couple of seconds. "Yeah. I'm back. You want something?"

He did that I-got-nothin' frowny shake of the head.

I kept staring at him.

"Well," he backtracked, "over an hour ago, Dief began expressing his desire to visit you, and I heard voices coming from across the hall. I could be mistaken, but the second voice sounded like Francesca's, and that would explain Dief's eagerness, since she often gives him snacks."

"You know what?"

He shook his head.

"It's none of your business who I have over."

"Right you are."

Dief looked up at me with big eyes.

"Nosy mutt," I grumbled.

Fraser cleared his throat. "Anyway, I've prepared a tentative itinerary. We'll fly to Inuvik where we'll pick up the dogsled. Then we'll travel by truck to Nunavut and by boat to Gjoa Haven. From there..."

"Ho-hold it, Fraser. How far is Inuvik from Nunavut?"

"Oh, some... thousand kilometers or so."

"Which in English is...?"

"Six hundred twenty-one miles."

I laughed. "Six hundred... Okay, here's an idea. Why don't we skip the dogsled and fly straight to Nunavut?"

Dief grumbled.

"It's only fair," Fraser said, as if the wolf had spoken his opinion in words. "They were along for the first part of the search as well... it's sort of their quest, too."

I winced. "Well then, how about we take them on a train to Nunavut?"

"There are no railways that far north, Ray."

"You're BS-ing me."

"I'm not."

"What the hell's your dogsled doing in... in... Inuvik in the first place?"

"I instructed Sergeant Frobisher to have the sled and dogs sent to Margaret."

"The ice queen?"

This time Fraser grimaced. "Inspector Thatcher would hardly have time to take care of a sled team."

"That's what I thought."

"I was referring to my sister."

"Oh, Maggie! Oh, that makes sense, 'cause she told us she lived in Inuvik."

"That she did."

Suddenly, picking up the sled team seemed like the best option. I wanted to see Maggie again. I felt a stab of guilt because I'd all but forgotten about her in my pursuit of Franny. And another one because Franny flew out of my mind when I thought of Maggie. If I did get to go out with one of those girls, would a call from Stella put them both out of my mind? I'm a bad person.

"Okay, so we get the dogsled in Inuvik and fly to Nunavut."

"It could be expensive to fly all of the dogs and the sled."

"Fly the dogs and borrow someone else's sled when we get there."

"I don't know... I'd like to have my own."

"Look, I love my car, but I could stand to rent a different one if I were far from home. If I can do that, you can borrow a different sled."

"Yes, I suppose so," he agreed.

"I mean, do you really want to spend an entire day driving across the far North? That's a day we could have been visiting with your sister... or-or looking for evidence."

"You do have a point; our days are limited."

"So we fly to Inuvik, short visit, fly to Nunavut, boat or plane to King William, and... then we find what we find."

"Then we meet with officials there about the exhumation. I plan to communicate my request by phone tomorrow, as soon as we've talked to your parents."

I grunted. I was not looking forward to that talk. "Okay. I'll go call them right now to see if they can come over in the morning."

* * *

 _Ugh, the next chapter's gonna be messy. But I've already committed to personal exploitation. So, stay tuned for that. ~Ray K.  
_


	31. I'd Like Your Opinion On Some Curtains

_I'm glad to see a bunch of new views. Hope you like the new chapter. Well... parts of it, anyway. This one was hard for me to write, and I'm sure you'll get why. Hang in there.  
_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One: I'd Like Your Opinion On Some Curtains

I'm tempted to flashback and tell you a story or two from my childhood, but I think I better save that for a separate story altogether. Instead, flash-forward: 2018. Oh no, you're thinking. He's an old man and he's going to give us dry, unhelpful advice that has nothing to do with anything. Well, no, I'm not. I'm not old, and I'm not about to hand out advice.

I need to give some background, and I'm not an expert, so bear with me. I'm sure you've heard of DID or MPD—Dissociative Identity Disorder or Multiple Personality Disorder—that's because you live in the 21st century, where people pay more attention to this stuff. [Fraser says I should have said "when" not "where." He's probably right.] But I think still not many people know about DD-NOS, Dissociative Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified. It's the younger, more versatile cousin of DID. It's also the reason I said at the very beginning that you needed to read the MaireadSystem profile or eventually the story wouldn't make sense.

Anyway, people with DID sometimes call their alternate personalities "alters." So, that's what Mairead calls us. That's how come it's not Mairead writing this story, but me, Ray Kowalski. I'm setting down my memoirs. On her plane of existence, my ideas are coming out through her hands, into her computer in 2018, getting published to a fan fiction site, because who on earth besides fan fiction enthusiasts is gonna read the memoirs of someone fictional?

Some alters are confused when they find themselves in a new world. I'm one of the newest, so I haven't had much time to observe, but I heard that Jack M. was kinda out of it when he got here. You can read about him in another MaireadSystem story. Others, like Levi (you can read about him, too) came programmed for the job, what Levi calls "fully briefed." What is the job? We're a coping mechanism, plain and simple. Okay, not plain, because all her current alters are pretty darn good-looking guys, and not simple for obvious reasons. But that's still the fact of the matter of the thing.

I'm happy to say that Ray, Fraser and I came on this scene fully briefed. Even though we'd had no warning, just showed up in this person's home, we all knew the situation instantly, knew we were there just to hang out and help out however we could, knew we weren't real, didn't really care. Kind of like Fraser's dad's ghost, only... not real. Eventually, Ray went back to our world, but he's dropped in again since then. More on "dropping in" elsewhere. Fraser and I are confident that we'll go back to that world one day, too—a world of endless coincidences, unfailing happy endings and comedy-gold banter. In the meantime, we're totally cool getting a glimpse of what our world might be like in twenty years. It's nice to know that the Internet will do some growing up, and even though the Bulls won't win every game, they'll still give the competition a hard time.

By now you're probably thinking either "Yes, I see." or "Wait, WHAT?" so I'm gonna pick up where the last chapter left off and give you some more of the story you signed on for in the first place. But I must reiterate: I said it was crazy. I warned ya.

Back to the '90s...

* * *

Tuesday morning, my parents showed up at my door. Fraser was already in my apartment with Dief, ready to back me up like he promised. Mom had somehow found the time to bake a coffee cake to bring over. She's like that. She's the hometown doting mother character. I love her for it, but it can be kinda smothering.

I offered everyone coffee, and then my dad finally said what he was thinking.

"What's this all about, Stanley? I know you didn't get me and your mother over here just to join you and your partner for brunch."

"Well, no," I admitted. "Fraser, you wanna tell them?"

While Fraser collected himself (I don't think he had realized I wanted him to do _all_ the talking), my dad looked from me to him, back to me, at my mom, and his expression was getting really suspicious. Just as Fraser opened his mouth to start, Dad said, "Isn't this maybe something _you_ should tell us, son?"

All I thought was that he was annoyed because I hadn't communicated very well lately. "I think Fraser can explain it better," I said, not able to look him in the eye.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"With all due respect, sir," said Fraser, "you can't expect to judge my capability on an unknown subject."

Dad sighed and put his face in his hands, leaning on the bar. "Fine. Just hurry it up."

"Damian, give them a chance," Mom told him.

Fraser started at the beginning. What we'd seen on our first trip to King William Island. The tourist attractions. The grave. The dream of the grave. Figuring out what was wrong with it. He ended with the reasoning he had presented to me the day before and our plan to return for one more shot at finding Franklin.

"You're going back?" Mom asked, looking worried.

"That's it?" said Dad, still looking suspicious.

I was surprised he hadn't blown his stack. "Y-yeah... that's it."

"Isn't it enough?" said Mom.

"Well... sure. I mean, we just found out you were home and you're talking about leaving again. That's certainly enough."

"What did you think it was going to be?" I asked.

"I didn't know." He sounded kind of defensive. "It's just that... well, you remember your friend Jamar."

"Yeah... he pretty much saved my life on the playground...more than once. He got me into boxing and he taught me to talk street. How could I not remember Jamar? We were like brothers."

"Right. Well... there were times when I wondered if the two of you... if you were..."

I suddenly knew where he was going. Why he'd looked so suspicious and gone out of his way to call Fraser my partner instead of using his name. It made me mad. It shouldn't have, but emotions are complicated. I had a bunch of them mixed together, and mad was what came out. "What, Dad? Just say it!"

Fraser cleared his throat. "Missus Kowalski, er, Barbara, I'd like your opinion on some curtains I purchased for my apartment. Uh, shall we...?"

 _Great, Fraser. Just the thing to convince my dad you're not gay: asking a lady for curtain advice._

They scurried out of the apartment, leaving me alone with my father.

After a very loud silence, Dad said, "I wouldn't... you know... stop speaking to you if that was it."

I felt a little embarrassed to be talking about this with him, but I could see that he did, too. I might actually be able take the upper hand in the discussion for once. I stepped toward him. "No? But you'd have stopped talking to other people about me. Change the subject when kids come up, because you don't want to have to talk about how your son screwed up a marriage and decided to try his luck with men instead."

"Stanley..."

"Will you _please_ call me Ray?"

"Ray. I'm sorry."

"Just listen for a minute, okay? Jamar and I were tight. Closer than family, if my relationship with you and Mom is anything to go by. But that doesn't make us gay. Most of the time, I don't take sides. Live and let live. But you know what really hacks me off? It's that your generation is so freaked out by the idea of 'sexual orientation' that you wanna screw up really good platonic relationships for fear they might 'turn gay.' I loved Jamar. Still love him. And I love Fraser, too. But I do not wanna make out with him, for god's sake!"

He was quiet, not even looking like he was waiting for his turn to talk anymore. I'd successfully scolded my dad for the first time in my life. I didn't know why I didn't feel good about it. I felt really hot and I was shaking a little.

"Do you understand?" I asked more quietly.

He nodded. "You make a lot of sense," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Fraser does seem like a very good man, and he's been a damn good friend for you. I wouldn't want to do anything to damage that. And if you two are closer than some of us find normal... well, I'll do my best not to let it bother me and just be happy for you."

My eyes were clouding and I tried to wipe them clear as fast as I could, before he noticed. I was trying not to wonder if he had thought I was gay my whole life. Or if it mattered much to me. Or how he really would have responded just now if I was. It didn't make me feel very loved. But I did think he meant what he'd just told me, and that made me hope things could be better now. I took a long, deep breath, let it out, took another one and said in a pretty steady voice, "Thanks, Dad. I'm sorry I raised my voice."

He shrugged. "This is your home. If anyone has a right, it's you."

 _He let me win. He really let me win this one._ I wasn't sure what it meant. It made me feel weird.

He put his hand over mine on the bar. We stayed like that for a while, and I think it's because we both wanted to say more, but we were both too chicken.

There was a quiet knock on the door and I went around to answer it, giving my dad's shoulder a little pat as I went by him. Of course, it was Mom and Fraser in the hall.

Fraser smiled at me. "Your mother has been an admirable help with the curtains. Would you like us to rejoin you now, or do I have time to discuss sheets with her?"

I grabbed the little strap on his shoulder that holds his lanyard in place and tugged him toward me. "Get in here, you freak."

* * *

My mom fussed over me a ton and made me promise to see them again before we went to the airport. Dad shook my hand and Fraser's before they left.

"I knew they'd understand," Fraser said once I'd closed the door behind them.

I sighed. "Sure... but only because it wasn't nearly as _horrible_ as what my dad thought was going on."

"Oh, Ray."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"You always knew I was straight, right? I mean, that hug the first time I saw you didn't make you think..."

He shook his head. "No... but I was thoroughly confused at the time. There was a very brief moment of doubt that one time you asked if I found you attractive..."

"But I meant—would you if you were a woman," I protested.

"I know, and your clarification was the reason I said it was very brief. To be honest, I sometimes find your attraction to women annoying... or perhaps I should say 'your obsession.'"

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad."

"I'll be in the middle of explaining something to you, a woman will go through your line of sight, and I'll know I've lost you."

"Nuh-uh!"

He tilted his head and said "Yuh-huh" in the most dignified and refined way I'd ever heard it in my life.

Dief barked and I glared at him.

"Like you're any better," I snapped at the wolf. I looked back at Fraser. "You know the one time I doubted your straightness? Two words for you: buddy breathing."

"I attribute that to your disoriented state at the time. If you'd had your full capacity for logic about you, you would have realized that even if I thought we were both going to drown and that there was no hope of escape, kissing you would hardly be the way I chose to say goodbye. Shaking your hand, maybe. More likely a salute."

I snorted. "Yup, that sounds like you." _A freaking underwater salute. Just what I want as the last thing I see before I die._

"There is also your fondness for teasing men that you're frisking..."

"I'm a funny guy. I crack some jokes."

"It hardly seems to come from a spirit of goodwill."

 _Goodwill? Toward criminals?_ I sighed. "Well... I guess it's kind of adding insult to injury."

He nodded. "You are already in the process of arresting them. I'm sure that nowhere does your police manual instruct you to demoralize your suspects."

"Yeah... he's already lost most of his dignity. No need to keep chipping at it. Or his self-esteem, if he actually is gay."

"Precisely."

Damn that moral high ground. Fraser was still miles above me. "If it helps... I do the same thing when I'm the one being frisked."

"I don't think that negates it, Ray." That's Fraser-speak for "No, it doesn't help."

To be honest, the whole frisking thing is awkward as hell when you first start doing it. You have to find a way to get over it, and my way was joking around. I'm not saying it was a good way. I'm just saying I needed _a_ way. "Well, um... what do we do now? About our travel plans, I mean," I added quickly, to make sure he knew I was changing the subject.

"Now I put in a call to Gjoa Haven. May I use your phone?"

"Okay, but when the bill comes, you're helping to pay it."

"Understood. I'm planning to have one installed in my apartment while we're away. Miz Tate will open my apartment for the technician."

"Good. It's about time. God, Fraser with his own phone. I can call you without having to go through Turnbull or someone."

I could see that Fraser knew exactly how annoying Turnbull could be. "It will be more convenient," was his tactful reply.

He was put on hold for quite a while by a few different people, but he just waited with a patience that passes mortal understanding. I brought him more coffee and worked on a crossword, something I rarely do, so you know I was bored, and fought my impulse to take the phone from him and bark at the next person who came on.

I fidgeted with the chain I wore on my wrist. Jamar had given it to me a long time ago. I remembered Dad kind of freaking out about it. "Boys don't wear jewelry," he'd said. I'd pointed at his wedding ring. "What the hell is that?" I'd asked. "A rivet? Are you a cyborg or something?" Yeah... I'd been sent to my room for that one. I think that was when I realized I was too old to hit, because if I'd mouthed off like that a couple years earlier, I definitely would have gotten a spanking. But I kept the bracelet, and he never brought it up again. I'm guessing Mom had something to do with that. It had been too big for me at the time, and was still pretty loose. I didn't wear it at school, both for fear of losing it, and for fear of getting beaten up. But I always made sure I had it on when I was hanging out with Jamar. It made me feel like I looked cool to his other friends.

Finally, Fraser got the right person to talk to and explained his request. He gave solid-sounding reasons without spelling everything out. I think he did a fair job, considering he has this thing against lying. Finally, he put the phone down.

"So?" I asked impatiently. "What did they say?"

"My request is going on record and the necessary people are to be contacted about it."

"Okay, and how long will that take?"

"A couple of days, probably."

"So, when will we know if we're going?"

"I think it would be wise to leave as soon as possible, traveling while they make their deliberations. I can arrange our flights now, if that's all right."

"But what if we get up there and then they won't go through with it?"

"Then we can make an appeal in person."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Fraser sighed, looking like that result would really crush him. Then he said, "In that case, I suppose we can make a long visit with Maggie."

I had no problem with that. "Okay. We're going back to Canada."

He smiled a real one. Ten points.

* * *

 _Whew, well, that's over. There are still plenty of weird life-twists to come, but most of them are nowhere near that uncomfortable to write about. Don't be too hard on my dad... he means well. ~Ray K.  
_


	32. Really Happening

_You may notice chapters are getting a little longer, and will get gradually longer still, because we're writing faster than we're posting. So you can look forward to longer chapters. Ace.  
_

 _The story has over 500 views! Of course the newest chapters don't have many, so I'm thinking my hook wasn't strong enough to pull people along very far, but still... 500 views over a month or two isn't bad._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-two: Really Happening

A note from February 16, 2018. I got to hold a baby yesterday. We were visiting a friend of Mairead's who was under the weather. She had a couple of other friends over, and one of them had a baby with her. I watched them holding him and listened to their girly discussion of breast-feeding and some gross stuff about childbirth that I'll spare you, and then I couldn't stand it anymore and asked to hold him.

He seemed to like being supported to stand up, even though he was just five months old, so I held him like that most of the time. He drooled a little, but didn't cry much at all. He seemed like a pretty happy baby. I petted his soft baby head and made a silly sound effect when I touched his nose and held his strong little hands and cuddled him against my chest. He didn't even throw up on me. It was a pretty great baby experience all around. I want one of my own. Or two.

It has nothing to do with the rest of this story, I know. I just had to share that.

* * *

I drove Fraser to the consulate where he had some desk work to do—fortunately he rarely got guard duty anymore, that falling to Turnbull or another constable—and then I picked up lunch and we ate in his office.

I was still a little rattled from the talk with my dad, but I felt kind of freed, too. Everything was on the table; no more wondering. I didn't feel awkward anymore about Constable Edwards seeing Fraser with his arms around me. Who cared what he thought? Fraser and I knew where we stood, so nothing else mattered. The one annoying thing was that we hadn't had the "I'm not gay for you" discussion a long time ago. Maybe we'd have been even closer.

"You don't mind eating here?" Fraser asked me.

"No, it's fine. Why would I mind?"

"You don't seem to have a great fondness for the consulate."

"That's true, but... it's okay. It's kinda silly to avoid a place just because I was kept there against my will, right?" I laughed a little.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"It's fine," I said again. "I gotta get over these things. All these little things that bother me are the things that keep me stressed out and high-strung. Not that I'm gonna rely on logic all the time, but these are the facts of the thing: I'm with my best friend and his wolf and that's always meant I'm safe. I have no reason to freak out."

Half a smile. Five points. "I'd have liked to meet your friend Jamar. Are you still in touch?"

"Not really. Last I heard, he had a good job at a body shop and he's still boxing some. I always watch the paper to see if there's anything about him. He'll never be a pro, but he does okay. If he ever comes to town, I'll introduce you."

"Perhaps he could teach me the street lingo as well."

"Uh... it's not like he sat down and gave me lessons. He taught it to me by example mostly. It took me years to get good at it."

"I see. Well, perhaps if you used it around me more, I could pick it up as well."

"Heh... I can try."

"I've already learned a dozen or more terms."

"Oh, really?"

"Of course, I'm still not sure what they all mean. For instance, I've found that the code to dial for directory assistance is four-one-one, and have surmised that four-one-one in street lingo means 'information.'"

"That's right. The four-one-one is the facts. The low-down."

"Ah. And, is the 'low-down' the same as the 'down-low'?"

"...No. The low-down is the straight dope. The down-low is dishonest. Under the table. Off the books. Illegal. Secret. Like, 'I can move that for you, but it's all on the down-low.'"

"I see." He picked up a pencil.

"Don't take notes."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't study this. If you're just practicing, you won't feel it. If you don't feel it, it won't sound right. You practice wrong, you perform wrong."

"Oh." He put his pencil down.

I had to smile at how he was eating up my every word, really looking up to me for a change. Usually, he's the one who knows more on any given subject. "Fraser, you trust me?"

"Implicitly. Surely you know that."

"Well, yeah. Or I would if I could remember what implicitly means."

He almost-smiled again. "In this instance, 'without qualification or reserve.'"

"That's what I thought."

We got done eating and Fraser said, "We should go to the precinct when I'm done here. We need to inform Ray and Lieutenant Welsh of our plans."

"Did you tell Lam?"

"Yes, while you were picking up our food."

"How'd he take it?"

"Difficult to say."

"But he didn't try to talk you out of it?"

"No."

"That's good."

"I also worked out more details of our trip."

"Okay." I gathered up our trash. Fraser's wastebasket is pretty small, so I decided to take it to the bigger one in the kitchen.

On my way back to Fraser's office, Turnbull stopped me.

"Detective Kowalski, is it true that Constable Fraser is leaving us?" he asked urgently.

I narrowed my eyes. "No. Well, yes, but only for a week or two."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure. I'm going with him, and I've only got a two-week s— uh, a two-week leave."

"Well, that's good to know, but all the same... the last time Constable Fraser returned to the old country, he did not necessarily plan on remaining there for any length of time. However, he was gone for six weeks and two days!"

 _"The old country?" He counted the days? Why did I call Fraser a freak when I had this guy to compare him to?_ "Turnbull... we're coming back, okay? I'm due back in two weeks, and I'm not coming without him, so... just keep your tunic on."

"Yes. Thank you, Detective."

I was already walking away. "Uh-huh."

* * *

Welsh had serious misgivings when we explained our plan to him. It took quite a while to convince him that we were serious and that we would definitely be coming back by the time my suspension was up. But he didn't wig out like Ray did.

"We're in the middle of stuff here!" Ray exclaimed, gesturing toward the many files open on his desk.

"Our mobsters aren't up for trial for quite a while," I said. "If I'm on vacation, that's one person less that they can follow around looking for sloppy work."

"What about our current investigation?"

"Fraser has some insight about the MO and weapon. Other than that, there's nothing you really need from us at this point. If it's still going when we get back, we'll jump back in."

"Saying I can't solve a fresh murder/cold case murder in two weeks without help?"

I liked how quickly he could jump from complaining about not having our help to claiming he didn't need it. "I didn't say that."

"And what about Franny?"

"She's got you to look after her."

Ray looked over at his sister. "Did you know about this?"

"Only since last night," she said. "There's no reason to light a fuse. They're going, and we just have to make the best of it."

"Blow a fuse."

"Light it, blow it... weld it—just don't do it!"

"We will keep in touch," Fraser said. "We'll call from Inuvik and again from King William Island."

"Whoa, you're going away?" asked Huey, who had been walking by with Dewey.

"For about two weeks, yes."

Huey and Dewey looked at each other. "Could we have a word, Fraser?"

"Certainly."

I started to follow and Dewey said, "Not you, Vecchio. I mean Kowalski. Damn, that's still confusing."

I gave him a dirty look, but I stayed at Ray's desk. I told him what Fraser had told me about using a serrated knife, and about the method of throat-cutting, keeping my voice down so I didn't gross Franny out too much.

"If it is a pro job, I might know someone who knows him," Ray said. "That's an angle worth looking into."

When Fraser came back, we finished convincing Ray that it wouldn't be the end of the world—or even our team—if we left for a couple of weeks.

"When are you leaving?" Ray asked, finally not arguing anymore.

Fraser looked at me. "First thing in the morning, partner?"

I took a deep breath. It was sudden. It was really happening. I nodded.

"Geez. Okay," Ray said, coming out from behind his desk. "You need a ride to the airport?"

"I think my parents will want to do that," I said. "If not, I'll let you know."

"Well, you guys be careful." He pointed a finger at my face. "Especially you. Don't forget that's his turf, so you listen to him."

"Yes, mom," I muttered.

He punched my arm. "Benny..." He gave Fraser a hug. "Take care o' that knucklehead. And the wolf. I assume he's going, too."

"Yes," Fraser answered.

He moved back and poked Fraser in the chest. "Don't forget to come back."

"I won't."

Then he turned to me. "And you don't let him lick anything toxic or sharp. Or metal, if you're in subzero temperatures." He gave me a quick hug, more like a casual, passing choke-hold.

"Got it," I said. "And you take good care of our family."

"Will do."

I saw Franny waiting her turn, and I stepped closer to her. "Franny, can I talk to you a second?"

She sniffed. "Um... sure. Yeah."

I thought about talking to her in the lunch room, but there was too much risk of someone interrupting. I led the way to the utility closet where Fraser and I sometimes went for privacy. Yeah, I know how weird that sounds.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is there a light in here?" She brushed my face accidentally, looking for a string to pull.

"No, there's no light," I said. "Normally if you need light in here, you leave the door open, grab what you need, and you're done."

"Right..."

"Listen, I wanted to tell you before I left..." I suddenly didn't know how to word it. "Um... I know I can be a pain to work with sometimes... and I annoy you and stuff. Guess we kinda rub each other the wrong way a little. But I want you to know I do like you. I don't always remember it, but you are pretty smart when you're paying attention, and you're very... very attractive."

I heard her take a little breath, like she was going to say something, but I hurried on before she could.

"I think we've gotten to be okay friends, and I like that. But I keep wondering if maybe... maybe we could try to be more than that. I don't know if it would work. And if you think there's just no way in hell, tell me and I'll forget the whole thing." I waited, glad she couldn't see my face and how nervous I was.

"I, um..." Agonizing pause. "I don't know."

"Okay. Well, that's not a flattening rejection," I said with a little laugh.

"I've just had... a lot of emotions to sort through lately."

"Yeah... I get that."

"I don't want to tell you something now that might just be based on how I'm feeling at this moment, you know? I want to have the decency to think it over for a while."

"That's good. That's totally fine. And it's a good time, because I'm going away. So, you can think about it without having to see me."

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Okay." I was starting to feel relieved. Maybe she was just trying to let me down nicely, but that was better than my worst-case scenario. "Well... we better get back out there. You good?"

"Mhm."

We went back out to the bullpen to finish our goodbyes.

Franny hugged Fraser tight, but not as long as I expected before she moved on to me. I could already see tears in her eyes. "Please be safe," she whispered in my ear.

"I will."

"And don't let him do anything too crazy."

"I'll try."

She kissed my cheek. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Franny."

She went right back to her desk and didn't look at us as we went by. I didn't look at her either, but I stole a box of tissues off someone else's desk and dropped it on hers.

* * *

"What did the duck boys want?" I asked when we got outside.

"Ah, they were concerned about winning their bet with Francesca."

I frowned. "Where do you fit in?"

"They were hoping that, once they chose a song, I would sing it for her, thereby influencing her to like it more."

"Those dirty sons of ducks!" I exclaimed. "I hoped you told them off."

"I merely reminded them that Constable Turnbull is quite keen on persuading Francesca to like the genre and would therefore be more than happy to present their song for them. And in favor of a compromise, I gave them a song recommendation."

"Oh, yeah? What song?"

"Paul Overstreet's 'When You Say Nothing At All.'"

"Ha, that's a good one. Franny never stops talking."

"You've heard of it?"

"No, I meant it was a joke. I don't think I know it."

"Well, it goes like this..."

Of course, the Mountie broke into song. I tried to humor him for a while, but driving along with a singing Mountie and a deaf wolf, especially when it's a tender, lovey-dovey country song, is pretty irritating.

"Okay, I get the idea," I said before he could get into the second verse. "She'll like that."

"I think so."

* * *

"I'm gonna pack," I said when we got back to our hallway.

"All right. I'll confirm our flight if you let me use the phone again."

"Okay." I unlocked my door and let them in.

I hate packing. I knew better than to try to take what I would for a normal vacation. We'd have to be able to move all of our combined luggage on one dogsled. I got several pairs of warm boxers from the back of my drawer where I had shoved them when I was adjusting to the warmer weather. Also several pairs of my warmest socks. A couple of undershirts. Dug my flannel shirts out of the closet. Comfortable jeans.

Welsh had my Glock, but I still had my boot gun. I shouldn't need it, but you never know. It was too short notice to get a permit to take it to Canada. Maybe I'd just... "forget" to mention it and... smuggle it in my luggage. Yup. It would go in the bottom of my bag, wrapped in a T-shirt.

My cell phone rang.

"Kowalski."

"Hey, it's Ray. Is Fraser with you?"

"Uh... here, but in the other room," I said, lowering my voice.

"Good. Listen, I was wondering if I could use your apartment while you're gone. I know it's a lot to ask, but it would give me a chance to get away from the house and start looking for my own place."

"What about Francesca?"

"I'll still take her home if we leave work after dark. She's got a can of mace and a good set of lungs. She'll be okay."

"I don't wanna be worrying about her my whole trip."

"Fine. I'll pick her up and drop her off twice a day, every day. Happy?"

"Is my space gonna smell like smoke when I get back?"

"I won't smoke inside unless it's an emergency. And I'll open a window."

"Okay. I'll leave the key with the landlady."

"Thanks, man. I owe you one."

I snorted. "You owe me at least three at this point. I forgot to ask if there were any vacancies, but I guess you can do that when you get here."

"Oh, hey, I almost forgot. Call Ma before you leave. Or better yet, go see her. Like now."

I looked at my watch. It was mid-afternoon. "Yeah... I'll at least call her."

"Good. Safe trip, okay?"

"Thanks. Bye."

I went out to the kitchen area where Fraser was washing my coffee pot, of all things. "That was Ray," I said. "He said I should go see his mom before we leave, so I thought I might go now. You wanna come along?"

He nodded. "All right. We have a flight leaving at nine-forty tomorrow morning."

"So, we have to leave around nine."

"We should leave around seven," he corrected. "It's always a good idea to be at the airport at least two hours before takeoff to allow time for processing."

"I know that's what's recommended, but it never really takes that long, especially if you don't have much luggage."

"Lines can be long, though. Better safe than sorry." He started measuring coffee into a filter. "I'll program your machine; that should help motivate you in the morning."

I went around the bar and leaned over his shoulder. "You figured out how to program it?"

"Not yet... but a little trial and error... there."

"That's it? I've had that machine over a year and figured I'd never know how to do that."

"Did you try reading the instructions?"

"Threw 'em out with the box before I thought I'd need 'em."

"I see."

"Don't 'I see' me. You're logic, I'm instinct. We've been over this. I just didn't try enough, that's all. I couldda figured it out."

"I'm sure you could have."

"What time did you set it for?"

"Six."

I groaned. "Okay. I'm not setting an alarm, though. I'll let the smell wake me up."

"If I haven't heard from you by quarter past, I'll come wake you."

I had forgotten he had the spare key now. I thought about telling him to give it to my mom for while I was gone, but then I realized she might try to go over and clean or something and find Ray there, and that would be weird. She didn't need to be there while I was gone. Let it stay with Fraser.

* * *

 _Don't you hate trying to sleep the night before a trip? Hope waiting for the next chapter doesn't keep you up. ~Ray K._


	33. Connecting Flights

_Alternate title to this chapter: Goodbyes, my friend screws me over, and a happy reunion. Haha, hope you enjoy it.  
_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-three: Connecting Flights

Ma Vecchio was not happy about me and Fraser leaving again. She went from trying to talk us out of it to offering to make food for us to take along. Fraser explained to her that we would be flying, and even food in airtight containers might not travel so well in our luggage.

"You just came home, now you're leaving again," she complained. "You said no more danger for a while," she accused me.

"This isn't all that dangerous, really," I said. "Compared to real police work... what's the worst that can happen?"

"Your plane could crash."

I winced. "Well... yeah, that'd be bad. But Fraser's already survived one plane crash. He's lucky."

"You think anyone gets that lucky twice?"

"Ma, we'll be all right."

"Wait here."

Fraser and I looked at each other.

"Well... she's not taking it so well," I said.

"She's only worried. She's had to worry about her birth son for over a year while he was undercover, and then she worried about her stand-in son while he was in the Yukon, and now he's going back... I'm sure it's all taken a toll on her."

"Yeah, I know."

We waited a little longer and then she came back, holding something.

"This was my husband's," she said, holding up a necklace I recognized as a Catholic medal. "He wasn't wearing it the day he died, and I always thought if he had been, he might o' lived longer." She fastened it around my neck.

"Saint Christopher," Fraser observed. "The patron saint of travelers."

"Sorry I don't have one for each of you."

"That's all right. I'm sure if Ray is safe, I will be, too. It's unlikely we'll be apart."

She nodded. "Stay together. And never take that off," she said, pointing at me.

I felt a little weird, not being much of a believer, myself. "Don't you want to give this to Ray?"

"He has his own."

"Oh. Okay. Well, thanks. I'll keep it on."

* * *

I won't bother trying to fake you out with a dream scene. I'll just admit from the start: this was a dream. I'd fallen out of the airplane, thought I was going to die, but no... POOF, I was thirty feet down in powder snow. I tried to dig myself out, but the snow kept falling in on me like quicksand. Then Dief started trying to dig me out, and his claws were scratching my face. Then Fraser got there with a shovel and started singing a country love song while he dug. He bashed me up pretty good in the process, but finally got me out, and then I realized I didn't have the St. Christopher medal anymore. I started digging for it on my hands and knees. I was cold and out of breath.

I woke up to Dief licking my face and Fraser saying my name.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. _Ray._ Ray?"

"Yeah," I said thickly.

"It's time to wake up. Are you all right?"

I groaned and rolled onto my side, facing him. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, dressed in casual clothes. "I'm tired. And my face has slobber on it."

"The sun's been up for an hour."

"The sun doesn't need sleep. I do." I pulled the covers over my face.

"The coffee's ready."

I peeked out. "Bring me a cup?"

For some reason, I thought he would do it, but he turned his head, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and said, "I think you can get it yourself."

"Please? I'll get up. I promise."

He glanced at Dief, who said something like "row."

"Very well." He got up and left the room.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, but then Dief was pawing me and I gave up. I pushed my pillow back and sat up against it. I had my clothes laid out. One more shower before... who knew when. Last time I'd gone far too long without one. So had Fraser, but he somehow managed not to stink too bad, and he wasn't one to complain about my smell when he knew I couldn't help it.

"Did you put anything in it?" I asked when Fraser came back with a mug.

"I found some chocolate chips."

"Good man." I blew on the coffee and took a sip. It was really good. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Anything else I can do?"

I shook my head. "My bags are packed. I just need to eat something, shower, and then we can go."

"I made some French toast in my apartment. Shall I bring what's left over for you?"

"Sure, that sounds good," I said, trying to ignore Dief's suddenly huge presence beside me.

* * *

After... _wolfing_ down my breakfast, I got into the shower. When I came out, my parents were there. Mom had a shopping bag.

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad... What's in the bag?"

"I got you some warm clothes to take on your trip," Mom announced.

"And I convinced her to keep the receipt in case you didn't need them," Dad muttered.

"There are some wool socks, long underwear and a balaclava."

"Um... thanks. I did already eat breakfast, though," I said.

"Balaclava, Ray," Fraser said. "It's another word for a ski mask. I believe you're thinking of _baklava,_ the Mediterranean pastry."

"Huh. Well, that's good. 'Cause I almost froze my face off last time. A ski mask would be good." I went through the bag and, based on what we encountered on the last trip we took up there, I knew it was all useful stuff. "This is great. This is greatness. I'm gonna go repack my bag. Fraser, I'm gonna have to check a bag."

"Are you sure you want to do that, Ray? It can take time to collect it at the baggage claim, and you know we need to travel light."

"I just don't want to mess with a huge carry-on," I said, heading for my bedroom. Really, I wanted to check a bag because I didn't want TSA finding a gun in my carry-on. If I had known then about how the terrorist attacks of 9/11 would change airport security forever... makes me glad I grew up in the 70's and 80's. I did make sure to take my gun's registration information with me. I mean, I'm not stupid.

"Hey, is Dief going to have to be quarantined when we get there?" I asked when I came back out.

"Yes. He'll be taking a different route than we will, flying straight to Nunavut," Fraser answered. "By the time we get there, he will have been in quarantine for some forty-eight hours, and we'll be able to get him out when I show administration his paperwork from his most recent veterinarian visit."

"You take Dief to a vet?"

"Well, of course, Ray. Wolves in the wild don't generally need a vet's care to live long, full lives, but in the city one can't be too careful. Besides, there are laws about vaccinations."

That made sense. I just had a hard time picturing Dief sitting on an exam table.

"Are we ready to go?" Dad asked.

"Almost," I said. "Fraser, did you give your key to Miz Tate yet?"

"No; I was going to drop it off on our way out."

"Give it to me. I'll take it down while you make sure everything's shut off and lock up, okay?"

"All right."

If he thought my suggestion was weird, he didn't show it. I took his key down to room 209 and knocked on the door.

Ms. Tate came to the door in her bathrobe, looking sleepy. "Good morning, Detective."

"Morning, Miz Tate. I have Fraser's key for you. He said he's getting a phone installed..."

"Yeah, he told me about that."

"And here's mine," I said, handing it over. "My supervisor's gonna be staying in my apartment while I'm gone. His name's... oh gee, this is gonna be confusing. Uh, his name's Ray Vecchio."

 _"The_ Ray Vecchio?" she asked, perking up a little. "I read all about it in the papers while you were away the last time. Sensational story."

"MacKenzie King?" I guessed.

"Yeah! Boy, that woman can write. Hey, is it true your life was in danger every day because you had his identity?"

"Look, I'd like to stay and chat, but Fraser and me have a plane to catch, so..."

"Of course. Well, have a good trip."

"Thanks. We should be back within two weeks."

* * *

Mom did her embarrassing "I'm gonna miss my baby boy" routine at the airport after we handed Dief off and checked my bag. I tried to get her to stop, but I knew it was no good fighting it.

"You will take care of him, won't you?" she said, looking over at Fraser.

I knew she was saying it to him, but I said, "Yeah, I'll take real good care of him."

"Oh, you." She kissed me, hugged me and then kissed me again.

"All right, Barbara, there's a limit," Dad said finally. "You're embarrassing him. He's a grown man."

I was grateful he'd spoken up, but I just smiled at her. "We'll be careful," I said. "And it won't be as long this time."

"You _call us_ as soon as you get the chance," Dad said.

"We'll be in touch," Fraser told him. They shook hands.

Then Dad came over to me. I expected to get a handshake, too, but he surprised me with a hug. "Let us know as soon as you get back, too."

"Yeah, I know... I'm really sorry. It's gonna be fine, okay?"

"Yeah." He patted my back and let go of me.

I could hear them calling our flight. We picked up our carry-ons and headed into the line moving toward our gate. We said all the stuff we'd already said—goodbye, have a safe trip, talk to you soon, etc.—and then we were going down a hall, up a rolling staircase and onto the plane.

"Do you prefer aisle or window?" Fraser asked me.

I debated a few seconds. "Aisle," I decided. After falling out of a plane, I didn't like looking at that kind of height.

I slept a little bit, waking up as we headed down into Toronto. "What are we doing in Toronto?" I asked, trying to wake up.

"It's not a direct flight, Ray. We have a connecting flight to Edmonton."

"Edmonton? Where the heck is that?"

"Well, it's north of Idaho and Montana and that sort of thing."

"That sort of thing," I repeated, a little mockingly.

"It's a longer leg of the trip, so you should have time for a proper nap."

"First I'll need a proper bathroom."

"Well, the Toronto airport certainly provides those."

We found the restroom, made it to our connecting flight and settled in for the ride.

"So, when will we arrive in Inuvik?" I asked. I hate waiting for stuff, and air travel is not my favorite.

"Around three-thirty."

"Hmm."

"AM."

"Ugh!"

"Mountain time."

My mouth hung open. I couldn't respond. Then I suddenly found my voice. "Oh, my god, Fraser! You _bastard!"_

"There's no need for that, Ray."

"How can a flight take that long?"

"As I explained, it's not a direct flight. After we land in Edmonton, we fly to Yellowknife, and from there to Inuvik."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me how long the trip would be?"

"You didn't ask. Now, shh. You're disturbing the other passengers."

"If they know how long the flight is, I'm sure they're already disturbed!"

"Ray, please."

* * *

We had lunch on the plane. It was pretty bad, but I was hungry so I ate it all. I actually used the plane's bathroom just to stretch my legs a little. It was gross. I didn't linger. Then I had this weird feeling in my stomach and couldn't tell if I was hungry again, or just nauseous. (Fraser says, "You mean _nauseated,_ Ray. If something is nauseous, that means it _causes_ nausea, and I doubt you intend to say that about yourself.") Then we finally landed, made our next connection and went on. By the time we took off from Yellowknife, I was bushed. I had hardly done anything all day, but I felt like I'd been working out for hours, or like someone took a stick and whacked me with it all over my body. Fraser tried to tell me how good posture could keep me from getting sore muscles, but either I did it wrong, or my body just wasn't up to it. I was sore from head to toe.

When we fastened our seat belts for landing in Inuvik, Fraser told me, "We're in luck, Ray. We're actually twenty minutes early."

"You sonofabitch," I grumbled sleepily.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'You don't say.'"

"I do. Let's hope Maggie arrived early as well."

At the mention of Fraser's sister, I perked up a little. I didn't want to look messy and half asleep when she saw me. I tucked in my shirt and ran a hand through my hair.

Sure enough, she was waiting for us when we deboarded. I realized that I had turned her into a Barbie doll-like bombshell in my mind, while the reality was more... wholesome. Not a disappointment, mind you. Just confusing to a guy who's been awake too long. But I wasn't at all confused when she smiled at us. Her eyes, her mouth, even her tom-boyish clothes... it was all cute. All welcoming.

She and Fraser exchanged that family kiss on the cheek thing like they'd been doing it all their lives. I was jealous. Even though we'd kissed like that when I saw her last time for the Torelli brothers' trial, now she just took my hand and told me, "It's good to see you again, Detective." At least her tone and expression said she was interested to see if I still liked her.

I definitely did, and in spite of what I'd told Franny before we left Chicago, I let it show. "Good to see you, too." Well, Franny and I weren't dating. She hadn't given me much hope, either. I'd just have to wait and see.

"I'll get a cab to take us back to my place. I hope you don't mind close quarters."

"Not at all," I said. Staying close to her would be no problem.

"I've got a bedroll ready for you in the living area," she told Fraser, "and Ray may sleep in my cot."

I think Fraser and I both did a double-take. He was the one to ask.

"And where will you sleep?"

"I'll be leaving for work soon after we get there, so I decided to just stay up."

"Ah."

"Won't you be tired?" I asked.

"I got to bed early last night," she said cheerfully.

As far as I was concerned, it was still "last night."

"Ray has a checked bag to pick up," Fraser said.

I had almost forgotten. We had to wait in baggage claim quite a while before I spotted my gym bag. I grabbed it and slung it over my shoulders with my knapsack. "Okay, let's rock an' roll," I said with much less energy than usual.

* * *

Of course, Maggie lived in a cute little cabin. I know in canon she said something about a trailer with a generator or something, but if she had one of those, it wasn't in Inuvik. The layout was like a glorified studio apartment, and similar to my place in square footage. But it was super neat and tidy, and she used the space well. The kitchen, dining and living room were kind of all one, so she had opted to do without a dining table. Instead, she had two high chairs against the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, a lot like my bar, but not enclosed. The floors were hardwood—actually, so were the walls and ceiling. There was a fireplace where some embers were still glowing. An area rug covered the floor in front of the fireplace, and that was where the bedroll was waiting for Fraser.

"Nice digs," I said, pulling off my coat. I rubbed my arms to warm up faster. Inuvik was much colder than Chicago.

"It's very cozy," Fraser said, looking pleased. "Do you own or rent it?"

"Own," she answered with a smile. "Due to Casey's criminal involvement, some of his assets were seized, but they were assets I hadn't known about anyway. This cabin was all we really needed, and it still suits me."

He nodded. "It does." Looking at a carving of a polar bear on the mantelpiece, he said, "I see you got your birthday present."

"Yes, thank you! I love it."

"When was your birthday?" I asked, kicking myself for not finding that out sooner.

"May twelfth."

"Geez, I just missed it. I'd have sent you a card or something..."

"Oh, that's all right. When is yours?"

"September fourteenth."

"End of summer. It's a good time for a birthday."

I had often thought it sucked that my birthday came right after the start of school. As an adult it might have been nice, but by then my parents weren't doing much for my birthday. But now that Maggie said it was a good time, it seemed like the best time. "Yeah," I said, smiling. "Uh, so is May. Flowers blooming and stuff... well, in America, anyway."

"We get some flowers here, too," she told me. "Hawkweed and paintbrush, arctic lupine and my favorite, grass of Parnassus... I have a book about the local flora if you'd like to see it."

I liked the idea of getting cozy with Maggie and a picture book, but I was almost asleep on my feet. "To be honest, other than your pleasant features, the only thing I wanna see right now is the back of my eyelids."

"Understood. I'll just change into my uniform, and then the bedroom is all yours." I thought I saw a little blush on her cheeks as she left the room.

* * *

 _Back in Canada... It only took us thirty-three chapters to get back up there. I really had no idea how long it would take to tell all this. I'm definitely going to have to skip some stuff later on, but this is the important part, I think. And once I started letting Fraser tell his side, I couldn't stop. His point of view is explaining so much that I didn't know before (which goes both ways, I'm sure). Anyway, leave a comment, favorite, follow, share with friends, recommend to total strangers. Whatever. ~Ray K.  
_


	34. Indulgence And Discretion

_We'll be going back a bit for my perspective, but I'll keep it fairly compact so we can catch up to new information quickly. Thank you kindly for your indulgence. ~B. Fraser  
_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-four: Indulgence And Discretion

Backtracking to pizza dinner at the Vecchio's, I must say that now that I know the facts as they occurred, I view the evening much differently.

The food was excellent, and it was heartwarming to see Mrs. Vecchio and her family making much of my friend, who was modest to a fault. It also warmed my heart to hear RayV request a blessing from God on RayK. Clearly, recent events had done much to improve their regard for each other.

After dinner, Tony and Maria started getting their children ready for bed, and RayK went to read to the younger girls. Mrs. Vecchio escorted her father upstairs before coming back to serve coffee to me, RayV and Francesca.

"Keep the pot warm for me," RayV said, pushing back from the table. "I'm gonna visit the can."

"Charming," Francesca said sarcastically.

"Pardon me... the _powder room,"_ Ray amended with equal sarcasm.

Francesca chuckled and shook her head.

"Are you not joining us?" I asked Mrs. Vecchio when she started back for the kitchen.

"There's a pile of dishes that won't wash themselves," she said, patting my shoulder.

"I'd be happy to give you a hand with them," I said, going so far as to push my chair back.

"Nah, you don't have to do that."

"Ma, you work too hard," Francesca put in. "Why don't you go relax and me and Fraze will do the dishes?"

Her mother looked surprised at the offer, but she accepted. Francesca and I took our coffee into the kitchen and began taking clean dishes out of their dishwasher. I stacked and organized, and Francesca put everything away. Then we began putting dirty dishes in.

"Francesca," I said.

"Yeah?" She smiled at me.

"There's something I've been wanting to ask you... well, to tell you. To ask, and tell you." I wasn't sure I was making sense. I had planned out what to say, but couldn't remember any of my plan.

"Okay. Go for it."

I frowned as I put silverware into the dishwasher's plastic basket. "Well, it's come to my attention that... that at times I haven't always been very forthright... with my feelings—and intentions... with you..." I licked my lips. I couldn't understand why a simple conversation was so difficult. "And I wondered..."

"So, you wanna get things out there now?" Francesca suggested. "Get it off your chest? Because, that's totally fine. You can be honest with me. Whatever it is, just..."

She said some other things, but I'm afraid I didn't hear them. When she finally paused, I cleared my throat. "Yes, well... having given it a good deal of thought, I've determined that I owe it to you to... to 'spell things out' as some might put it. Just to be sure that there are no hard feelings between us. Because I would never want to hurt you," I said sincerely, glancing up at her.

I wasn't sure what her expression indicated. It seemed attentive, but I could detect nothing else.

"I think, in the long run," I went on carefully, "that you and I make better friends than we would anything else. Except, perhaps family, which I've come to see you as something like... I have similar feelings for you of pride and caring to those I have for my own sister."

She got a few more dishes from the sink and put them into the dishwasher. "I... I see," she said.

We worked a little longer, and I nearly spoke again a few times, but didn't know how to make myself clearer. Finally, she looked at me again.

"Thanks for telling me that, Fraser." I thought her eyes looked a little moist.

"You're welcome," I said, for lack of being able to produce anything more helpful.

"I think you're probably a really swell big brother," she went on. "So... so that's fine with me." She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. "You mind if I..." she said, backing away. "I'm just gonna..."

"Go right ahead," I told her.

She left through the door leading to the hall without further explanation.

A moment later, RayV came in through the dining room door. "So... you finally told her," he said, joining me by the sink.

I nodded. "I'm not sure... what to do now."

He picked a couple of dishes out of the sink and shook off some water before transferring them to the dishwasher. "I vote we finish up here and then help ourselves to some of that cake."

* * *

We were sitting at the table again with half-eaten slices of cake and fresh cups of coffee when we heard Mrs. Vecchio's loud exclamations in Italian. Ray and I understood enough to know that she was extraordinarily upset with her father for some reason. We hurried out to the hall and up the stairs.

Detecting our sense of urgency, Dief followed us rather than staying behind to loot our unguarded cake.

When we reached the top of the stairs, we saw RayK and Francesca down the hall, coming slowly toward us. The noise was coming from RayV's room, and we convened at the door, which was most of the way open.

"You _know_ what the doctor said!" Mrs. Vecchio was shouting at her father. "And you bring this here, with the children in the house!"

"Ma, what's going on?" Francesca asked tentatively.

"Look at your grandchildren," the matriarch continued, gesturing at the rest of us, including me. "What example are you setting them?" She shook something small and reflective in his face.

"I'm sorry, Marta," said her father. "You're right. I didn't mean any harm."

"Are those... cigarettes?" asked RayV, sounding quite disturbed.

I knew Ray had smoked in the past, but that was before I met him. I wondered if it was difficult for him to see a pack of them in his very own house after so much time had passed.

"You see. We're all ashamed of you," said Mrs. Vecchio.

"I'll throw them away," said her father.

 _"I'll_ throw them away. Somewhere you won't find them."

"W-where did _you_ find them?" RayV asked.

"In his bathrobe," she answered, coming toward us. When she got close enough, I could see that the cigarettes were a foreign brand, one with which I was not familiar.

"Uh, Ma," Ray started.

"It's my fault," RayK interrupted.

"You?" Mrs. Vecchio looked at RayK, at a loss for words.

"Yeah... I had these foreign cigarettes some stoolie gave me and I don't smoke... I thought since we were celebrating tonight, why not let the old man have a treat? It was stupid. I didn't think about his health... he seemed to be doing really good."

"Ray..."

I was nearly as shocked as Mrs. Vecchio. It wasn't hard for me to believe that RayK would want to share something with his adoptive grandfather—he had quite a generous nature. But I knew he hated cigarettes, and I knew he knew better than to give them to someone whose health was fragile.

RayK took the pack from Mrs. Vecchio. "I'll get rid of them." He looked past her into the room. "Sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"Oh, it's all right, my boy," he answered.

"Um... Sorry, Ma. It won't happen again; I promise." RayK retreated back downstairs.

Francesca patted her mother's arm. "Boy, what a dummy," she muttered.

"Oh, what a foolish boy," Mrs. Vecchio lamented.

I looked at RayV, who wore a rather vacant expression.

"I don't believe this," he said.

Diefenbaker had followed after RayK. "Come on... we'd best not let this fester," I told RayV. I looked at his mother. "I apologize for my friend's behavior," I said before starting back for the stairs.

RayV and I got back to the dining room with Francesca not far behind us, and there we found RayK, who seemed unable to meet the eye of anyone besides Diefenbaker, whom he was petting.

I was mildly surprised that Dief was acting nurturing toward RayK, rather than suspicious, given the way the Vecchios had reacted to his confession.

"So..." said Francesca.

"Kowalski, could I have a word?" Ray interrupted her.

"Oh, don't be dramatic," she said. "You can chew him out in front of Fraser and me. Or were you planning to beat him up?"

"I am _not_ going to beat him up! I just want a word with him in private, that's all." He took RayK by the shoulder and pushed him toward the front door.

"It's fine," RayK said, going along willingly.

I had some misgivings. I wondered if all the progress made between those two was about to be destroyed.

Francesca also looked worried. "I know you don't like eavesdropping," she said, "but I think I'd feel better if we did it now."

"Perhaps a compromise," I suggested, walking carefully up to the dining room window.

"Spying?" she asked.

I nodded. "Spying."

We could just see the two Rays on the porch if we got close enough to the glass. Their movements didn't seem too agitated, and they were keeping their voices low. After a moment, we saw RayK remove his hand from his pocket and RayV's arm moved, too. RayK's body was blocking my line of sight, but I was fairly sure RayK had given him something, possibly the cigarettes.

Dief poked his nose against the window as RayV's voice became audible, though we still couldn't discern any words. There was a pause, and then he reached out toward RayK.

"Oh, God," Francesca gasped, but she had nothing to worry about.

To our mutual surprise, RayV _hugged_ RayK.

"Whaaat...?" Francesca murmured. "Who'd have thought a year in the mob would turn my brother... _soft?!"_

"Perhaps it's given him a deeper perspective on cherishing his friends," I suggested. I felt a little guilty for intruding on the personal moment, even though I knew they were unaware of our observation. I moved away from the window, and a moment later, Francesca did, too.

"They're coming in," she said, hurrying to the other side of the room.

She watched both Rays carefully as they came back into the room. "You want some cake?" she asked RayK.

"I don't think I could," he said.

"I'll wrap some up for you." She left the room.

"So," I said, still feeling a little guilty.

"It's done," RayV said. "Forget it." He slapped RayK on the back. "No sense beating a dead horse."

"There's no sense beating _any_ horse."

"It's an expression."

"We're cool, Fraser," RayK said.

Everything seemed fine, so I tried to relax. If RayV could forgive RayK's mistake, there was certainly no reason I should hold it against him.

"You guys go home, rest up, and I'll see you on Monday," RayV said. He looked at RayK. "Just don't be too surprised if you don't get to stick around. I'm writing up my report tomorrow for Welsh to go over. I'm not gonna offer you up for the slaughter, but I am gonna tell the truth."

RayK nodded. "Fair enough."

Francesca brought out a plate of cake wrapped in plastic, which she offered to RayK.

"Thanks. I'll see you soon."

"Okay." She walked us to the door. "Ma will be okay," she said as we went out. "Nobody ended up smoking the things, so I'm sure she'll decide there was no harm done and you'll be back on her good side before you know it."

"I hope so," RayK said. "I feel terrible."

"Well... you should. But it'll be okay," she repeated.

In the car, Dief began licking RayK's ear. "All right, Dief," he said, pushing him away.

I considered the strange events of the evening, wondering if there were a connection between the cigarettes RayK had acquired from his informant and the ones I had smelled on RayV.

"I know, it was a stupid thing to do," Ray broke the silence about halfway home.

"I'm not judging you, Ray."

"No, but you're sitting there wondering how I could do something so stupid..."

"That would be judging you," I pointed out.

"I guess." He sighed. "Trust me, I feel just awful about the whole thing, but like Ray said, it's done."

I explained what I'd actually been thinking about and asked to see the cigarettes. I suspected he didn't have them anymore, but didn't want to reveal that I had spied on him and RayV.

"Oh, I... I gave them to Ray to get rid of," he said. "You know... he's the head of the family and all. So, he sees it as his responsibility."

"Was he angry?"

"No. Well, maybe a little. But it turned out fine. He even said I was his brother. And he meant it." Ray's expression was neutral, but I thought I heard a slight change in his voice, one of emotion.

"That was very supportive of him," I said, glad that my old friend had been so indulgent over the whole affair. I couldn't imagine him acting that way before his undercover work.

"Yeah. He's pretty cool once you get to know him."

"As I've been trying to tell you."

"I admit it, you were right. Happy?"

"I am."

He smiled a little. "Did you get a chance to talk to Franny?"

I suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable again. "Yes, I did."

"And did she understand?"

"I think so."

"Okay. Thanks for doing that, buddy."

I nodded.

"Hey, Ray was asking if there are any apartments available at Miz Tate's... I dunno how I feel about living in the same building with him, brother or no brother, but I guess we should ask."

"If neither of us sees her before Monday, I'll ask her then," I said.

He offered to help me work on my table more that night, but it needed time to dry, so I suggested waiting until the next day.

* * *

The next day, however, began with a distraction in the form of MacKenzie King. Well, in my case, it began with a bowl of oatmeal for me and a bowl of dog food and raw egg for Dief. We had finished breakfast and I hadn't heard anything from Ray's apartment yet, so I turned my table over and began working on the stain again. I heard Ray's phone ring a little later, but didn't think much of it until I heard his door open.

Then my door opened, and Ray walked in. Dief ran over to greet him, soon rewarded with petting.

"Tell me that wasn't unlocked all night," Ray said.

I am, of course, against lying. But I reasoned that if I was just repeating something Ray told me to say, it wasn't really a lie. "It... wasn't."

"You're lying."

"You told me to tell you."

"Never mind. MacKenzie King wants to interview me. What do I do?"

I advised him to review his case notes and to wear something a little more formal—he was in a pair of jeans and an undershirt. He hadn't even put socks on yet.

He explained that he didn't want to be interviewed at all.

"Then don't do it."

"It's not that simple!"

"Why not?"

"Because if I refuse to see her, she'll just print something like 'When asked for a statement regarding the Hall murder, Detective Kowalski declined to comment.' Something like that. It'll make it sound like I got something to hide."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

He made a frustrated gesture. "Fraser..."

"Yes?" I asked warily.

He seemed to calm marginally. "Look, I don't wanna do it. How do I get rid of her?"

"Well, you could tell her something diplomatic like... 'I am not at liberty to discuss ongoing investigations. Please direct any questions to my superior.'"

"Okay. That's good. That might work. You know her... you think it'll work?"

"Possibly." I knew Ms. King could be relentless.

"Possibly. What if it doesn't?"

I knew I couldn't send him away on his own. "If it doesn't, you may hand the phone to me," I said, pushing my chair back.

"Good. Come on."

He used the speaker feature on his landline so I could hear all of the conversation. When Ray tried to deflect Ms. King by directing her to Lt. Welsh, she was not thrown.

"Has your lieutenant ever been undercover? I'm looking for the inside scoop. The man living on the edge of a knife, as told to MacKenzie King in this exclusive..."

I decided it was time to step in. "Excuse me, Miz King."

"Constable Fraser, is that you?"

"Indeed it is," I said. "My partner informed me that he would be speaking with you, and I'm afraid I've been privy to your entire conversation."

She laughed. "I'll just bet you have. So, are you two living together now? You got there awfully fast."

Ray waved his hands at me rather wildly, seeming to want me to make an emphatic denial.

"No, just nearby," I answered. "If you're so intent on getting a story from someone who's been undercover, why aren't you asking Detective Vecchio for a scoop?"

She explained how she had tried and been put off by RayV.

"Yes, I'm afraid he can be a bit..."

"Well, that settles it," said Ray. "If Vecchio thinks it's a bad idea to talk to you, I'm not going to, either. Like I said, you can talk to my lieutenant if you want an official statement."

"Don't make an enemy of me, Kowalski," she said.

"Are you threatening me?"

"If I may," I said. "Miz King, Ray is refusing to be interviewed purely for the sake of his duty. And Ray, I'm sure she doesn't mean to seem threatening."

He rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps later on, he might be able to grant an interview, but he is obligated to remain discreet at this juncture."

King finally agreed not to pursue the interview further for the time-being and Ray thanked me for my help. We were about to have some coffee before going to my apartment to work on the table when his phone rang again.

* * *

 _I'll leave off here for the sake of length and post more soon. ~B. Fraser  
_


	35. PR (Parent Relations)

_Thank you for your continued support, Nutmeg9cat. We well know how real life prevents us from doing what we would like. Right now, telling this tale is helping Mairead to keep from being overwhelmed by her own real-life problems. ~B. Fraser  
_

 _Read on and enjoy._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-five: PR (Parent Relations)

Before I continue into the emotional drama of Ray's parents' call, I'll give you a moment of comic relief from the end of January, 2018. Ray and I have been using the extensive resources of the Internet to jog our memories about our past experiences. As alters, we don't know any more than Mairead knows. However, we sometimes find we know things that she doesn't remember learning. For instance, Levi taught Eren how to throw a stronger punch while in this world, and while Mairead has a vague memory of a karate instructor telling her class about chi and other points, she doesn't remember learning the actual mechanics of it. You might say that Levi, through trial and error, awakened her muscle memory. Or you might say Levi simply passed knowledge he already had to Eren, who did not have it.

In any case, if I forget the name of one of the Canadian territories (which is quite embarrassing, I must say) due to the fact that Mairead memorized them as a child and then promptly forgot them after she finished her geography course, I can simply look up a map of Canada and see the territories spread out before me on a screen. In doing some of this memory-jogging, I recalled seeing the film _The Passion of Joan of Arc,_ and to my dismay, I had no memory of the film, since Mairead had not seen it, herself.

One thing led to another, and we managed to find the film. The others chattered and ate chips while the film began rolling out explanations of its long and disaster-riddled history.

Ray complained to the others, "Be quiet. I can't hear the movie." When they were quiet, he said, "I still can't hear the movie. Fraser, there's no sound."

"It's a silent movie, Ray," I told him.

"Silent! What's the point o' that?!"

"Considering all the film has been through, we're lucky to be watching a restored version." As it turned out, we were watching what was probably the full original version with complementary music and French text. Levi and I being the only ones comfortable with the language, the others were less than enthusiastic.

Eren, at least, managed to find some amusement in the film's history. "Joan of Arc was burnt at the stake, right? And the film was lost to fire _twice?_ Man, it's a curse."

That got a smile from Ray. He suggested it may have been arson at the hands of those who objected to the controversial aspects of the film, and he may not be wrong. I suppose we'll never know.

We didn't get around to actually watching the movie, though. That came just today, in fact. I had to pause to translate from the French, and occasionally look up a word or idiomatic expression with which Levi and I were not familiar. Though we remained fairly serious for most of it, when the saint was asked whether or not she could tell the difference between a good angel and a bad angel, Ray erupted, "Kick 'im in the head, Joan!" I don't think he recognized the irony of the fact that he usually expresses the desire to kick someone in the head when _he_ is doing the interrogating.

Another good point Ray made (after getting over his dislike for not being able to hear the actors' voices) was that silent films seemed to do what contemporary ones failed to: skip the superfluous. In this film (and others of its ilk), one often sees the actors' lips moving, but only a few times does one see text to tell what is being said. This is because the emotion is carried in the actors' faces. One need not hear the exact words to understand what transpires before him. If "talking pictures" followed a similar principle with the added resource of sound, perhaps films would be a lot shorter, or able to fit in more relevant content.

Now, I will resume where I left off...

* * *

The phone ringing startled Ray as he was pouring milk into his coffee. He wiped up the drops of spilled milk as he reached for the phone with his free hand. "Hello?" His eyes widened. "Dad... Um... I was gonna call. And then I got this case. And then a friend of mine was almost kidnapped..."

An irate voice came through the phone, making Ray cringe.

"Uh... I, uh..."

I couldn't believe Ray had failed to alert his parents that he was home. Still, I felt the urge to rescue my friend and held out my hand for the phone.

"Um, Dad, Fraser's here."

I could hear enough of the strident answer to tell me that Damian Kowalski had no desire to speak to me. I retracted my hand.

"I'm sorry," Ray said. "It... it's just that some really big things have been going on... I know, I know." He sounded pitiful. "I wanna tell you everything that's been going on. It's just been a lot. Look, why don't you head over here right now and I'll tell you all about it. Everything. Okay?" He seemed to hold his breath, waiting.

Then his expression changed slightly. "Mom... I'm sorry. I know you must have been really worried and I should have let you know as soon as we got back. It's just been one thing after another. I told Dad you could come over now if you want. I don't have to go to the station today."

We might not be working on the table today after all, I realized. But family was much more important.

There was an even deeper contriteness to Ray's voice as he said, "Yeah... I'm really sorry."

I again wished to help and held out my hand for the phone.

"Mom, Fraser's here... No. It's fine. I'll explain everything when you get here, okay?"

I put my hand down.

"Love you, too," Ray said after a pause. Then he hung up. "Damn it, damn it, damn it..."

I patted Ray's shoulder. "I didn't realize they didn't know. I should have asked if you'd been in touch with them yet..."

"No, it's not your fault. I'm their son. I should have called them. Who goes out of the country for over a month and doesn't call his folks when he gets back? Me, that's who."

"You did call them from Canada," I reminded him, hoping to cheer him up a little.

"Yeah... forever ago. Last time I did, we were on King William Island with really bad reception."

"But they're coming over now?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps I should leave."

"No. Please, don't leave." He sounded worried.

"Ray, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Easy for you to say—your parents are dead!"

I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Uh... sorry," Ray said, his face flushing, "that... that wasn't..."

"It's all right," I said. Things were awkward enough without worrying about every slip of the tongue.

"Look, uh... let's work on your table until they get here, okay? I need something to keep me busy."

I agreed. We were both too distracted to discuss the Hall case now, but that could wait.

* * *

When Ray's parents arrived, I did my best to keep the emotional climate cool, and was met mostly with success. Damian took an interest in the table and even helped apply some stain while Ray and I filled them in on our activities over the last two months.

Barbara offered to make lunch for us, but her menfolk dissuaded her. The Kowalski parents left us on fairly peaceful terms, though the atmosphere at their parting was tense.

Ray leaned on my closed front door, closing his eyes. "Why do I screw everything up, Fraser?"

The question rested on a false premise, so I said, "I can't give you a reason for something that doesn't exist, Ray."

"Huh?"

"You don't screw everything up."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Sandwich?"

"Sure."

I fixed us both some ham and cheese sandwiches, and Ray's demeanor seemed to strengthen a bit as he ate. When we finished, he said he needed to clean up his apartment, and I saw him out.

The table was essentially done, so I gathered up the excess newspaper and set it aside to use when I stained the chairs to match. Then I remembered the oatmeal I had never put away, so I tasted a little of it. It wasn't the best consistency, but it wasn't rancid, either. I sealed it in a plastic container and put it in the refrigerator, much to Dief's disappointment.

We went out for a short time, picking up a few grocery staples, and then I sat down with the book I'd been reading. Time ticked away until Ray came back into my apartment, again objecting to my leaving it unlocked. He invited us to supper, which we accepted.

Ray caught me up on the attempted kidnapping case over macaroni and cheese. Afterward he got out some Oreo cookies, which Diefenbaker was grumpy about, due to not being allowed to partake of them.

In spite of missing open country, I was starting to get comfortable in our apartment life. I thought my father's imagined misgivings had been unfounded. Seeing more of Ray wasn't a big irritation. It was nice. It was like having family close by again.

Very different, of course, from living with my grandparents. They had been my caregivers, and other than household chores, I had given them little in return. Living near Ray was a different dynamic, one of give and take. We supported each other, challenged each other, argued a bit, encouraged a bit. Watching him dunk an Oreo into a tumbler of milk, I thought _This is like growing up with a brother._

He looked up and caught me staring. "What, you never dunked before?"

"No, I have. Just not for a long time."

"Well, that's how you're s'posed to do it."

"I thought there was no wrong way to eat them."

"That's Reese's, man. Go on, dunk."

I dunked.

* * *

The next morning I had my breakfast of leftover oatmeal and got ready for the day. I had just finished shaving and getting dressed when Diefenbaker barked and scratched at the front door.

I put my head out into the living area. "You can wait another minute," I scolded.

He barked at me, louder.

I looked at my watch. It was after seven, but I doubted Ray was up yet. He might be having a nightmare again. "All right, I'm coming."

I knocked on Ray's door a moment later and then put my ear to it, listening. I couldn't hear anything but a very faint rustle; then nothing. I knocked again.

"Benton?"

I looked up to see Barbara Kowalski coming toward me. "Ah, Barbara."

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

Dief barked and I smiled with chagrin. "I was going to see Ray, but I'm not sure if he's up yet..."

"Not to worry. I have a key," she said, smiling. "If I'd only come over to dust in the last couple of weeks, I'd have realized he was back, but I sort of let it go after a while."

"If we had thought to warn you, I'm sure you'd have had it ship-shape for his return," I said.

She unlocked the door and we went inside.

Ray was up by this time, and not happy at the intrusion. His remarks were rather clipped and his expression sour.

When the bathroom door closed behind him, I said, "I've found he's not much for mornings."

"No," said Barbara, shaking her head. "It was always hard getting him ready for school on time, poor little thing. Of course, he used to get bullied sometimes..." She leaned closer to me and dropped her voice. "You wouldn't think so to look at him now, but he was a little bit chubby in middle school."

"I never would have guessed," I said. Ray was one of the thinnest men I knew.

Barbara went into the kitchen area and started brewing some coffee. Then she pulled a box of eggs out of the refrigerator and soon had a couple frying on the stove. "Are you hungry, Benton?"

I shook my head. "I've had breakfast, thank you." As Dief started making noise, I added, "As has Diefenbaker. But I'm sure Ray will be glad of a hearty breakfast. He's going to court today."

Ray emerged from the bathroom, looking less irritable. He came to sit beside me at the bar. "Sorry," he said.

"Oh, it's all right, dear," Barbara said. "You're just tired. Benton tells me you have a big day today."

"Yeah... have to go to court for an arraignment. Or four."

Eventually, the conversation turned to Ray's father, and I began to feel as if I were intruding.

"He really missed you, Sta—Ray. We moved out here to be near you, you know."

"I know, but... it's not like I asked you to," Ray said quietly.

That sounded potentially explosive. "Perhaps I should..." I started, moving to get up.

Ray put his hand firmly on my shoulder. "Stay."

I relaxed. "Very well..."

"I know you didn't," Barbara said, flipping the eggs onto a plate. "And I know you and your dad have been a little... well, he's really trying to make things better. I think he's just a bit frustrated."

"Yeah." He took the plate from her. "You eaten?" He asked me.

"Yes, thank you," I answered. When Dief put his paw on Ray's leg, I added, "And so has Dief."

Dief made a very immature and unbecoming noise for a wolf.

Ray shrugged. "Sorry, pal. Alpha has spoken."

* * *

I ventured to ask Ray about his nightmare while he drove me to the consulate. He told me it concerned his dog that had died and I asked if he would consider getting another one. When he said he didn't have the time, I suggested a police dog, which he said he might consider.

Then I remembered that I had also had a troubling dream the night before. I described it to him, but he couldn't shed any light on it for me. He agreed to pick me up again when it was time to go to the courthouse and drove off.

American court proceedings are fascinating to me, and I looked forward to the arraignment so much that I'm afraid I may not have paid my full attention to my duties at the consulate. I admired the way Assistant District Attorney Kowalski confidently presented information to the judge, and I thought that RayV's courtroom demeanor had improved since I last saw it.

RayK seemed bored, and distracted by his ex-wife's presence. Still, he was nothing but civil and polite to her when we went to lunch. I thought he was making a good effort to give her the distance she wanted.

When we got to Passero's and De Luca's arraignments, things got more interesting, still. Their lawyers were full of quick wits and Latin terms. Knowing some Latin, I was able to follow their arguments, and knew before Lt. Welsh summed things up for us afterward that they weren't going to make it easy to convict their clients of any crimes.

It was on our way out of Welsh's office that I saw Francesca trying to warm her hands, which sparked my realization of what had been wrong in my dream. The grave contained a man, not a woman. If it wasn't really a woman, it might also not be an Inuit. It might also not be "unnamed." Perhaps the name was well-known. Perhaps, for some reason, Franklin had become separated from his party. Perhaps the Inuit had taken pity on him and sheltered him. Perhaps he had been buried there. But it was against Inuit custom of the day to treat an outsider like part of the tribe. Perhaps someone buried him near their own graves and concealed his identity to avoid being shunned by their people. It was a hunch... a rather far-fetched one... but it wasn't impossible.

And as Sherlock Holmes said, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Ray took a lot of persuading, even to get him to admit I had a viable theory. He protested that he couldn't leave on such short notice, and when I tried to persuade him further, he declared emphatically, _"Fraser, I c_ _an't."_

He sounded as if his mind was made up. Mine was also made up. Now that I had thought of this idea, I knew it wouldn't leave me. I couldn't not go. But it had been Ray who proposed our quest in the first place. I tried to imagine arriving in Gjoa Haven without him. I couldn't.

"I don't want to go without you..." I said quietly.

"I don't want you to go without me, either." He closed his eyes for a moment while stopped at a traffic light. Then he sighed. "Look... suppose you convince me we have reason to believe Franklin might be in the grave. And suppose I work something out with my friend. You think the Netsilik are gonna let us wreck their tourist attraction? Or that the Gjoa Haven officials are gonna be happy about us digging up a grave on their turf?"

"Depending on the outcome of the exhumation, the tourist attraction might become even more lucrative due to the discovery," I pointed out. "As for the officials, I would make a request through the proper channels. With good fortune, it might be granted by the time we got there."

He still looked unhappy. "It's so cold up there..."

"But we're coming into summer, so the days will be longer."

"Whoop-dee-doo. So, it'll be thirty degrees instead of twenty."

I knew that was likely to be the high, if we were lucky, and not in centigrade measurement. "In Fahrenheit, perhaps," I muttered.

"I heard that."

"We managed last time."

"My fingers started to turn blue. I thought I was going to lose them."

I didn't let myself think about that in detail. I had been very worried for my friend at the time, and I didn't need to show that worry now. "But you didn't."

We arrived at the consulate. He was silent a long moment. Then he said, "Go get your wolf. And then... convince me."

Inspector Lam agreed to let me have the rest of the day off, since my shift was technically over, even though I had scarcely done any work there that day. I got Dief and returned to Ray's car. I spent the trip home explaining my hunch to him, and why I thought we had sufficient reason to investigate.

I knew he was reluctant, but I could also see a glint in his eye. A glint that was born of the idea I was transferring to him. What if it's true? What if he's there? He was still divided by the time we got home, but I thought he was a little more on my side. If things worked out, he would go. We would go together.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment if you have the time. ~B. Fraser  
_


	36. Curtains

_As you may recall, Ray used my comment to his mother about curtains as a previous chapter title. I chose the word curtains as the title of this chapter for two reasons. First, because it covers that same section of the narrative, and second, because "curtains" is a reference to an ending, death or, in this case, goodbyes. We say goodbye to a few people in this chapter.  
_

 _I hope you find my perspective interesting._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-six: Curtains

I spent the evening packing. Then I used up some of my perishables in making dinner. If I couldn't use them all by the time we left, I would give them to Ms. Tate or other tenants. Which reminded me, I hadn't seen the landlady or thought to ask RayK if he had asked about vacant apartments on RayV's behalf. As it turned out, I would not remember to do so before we left.

I heard someone arrive at Ray's apartment and thought I recognized Francesca's voice. Dief whining by the door confirmed it: he'd scented one of his favorite people.

"We weren't invited," I told Deif.

"Hm."

"Well, it's none of our business what they're doing. If they want us to join them, they'll tell us."

He waited by the door for about an hour, until I heard voices again and the door closing. Two pairs of feet walked away down the hall. Ray was probably taking his guest home.

Dief sulked.

"There's no reason for you to be so put out," I said. I was a bit curious myself, though. I thought that Francesca was likely the friend Ray had said he would help with something, and it seemed unusual for her to ask for his help with anything.

I tried to put Ray's visitor out of my mind and sat down to work out our route to Gjoa Haven. I was certain my sister would be glad to see us if we came to pick up the dogsled from her. Inuvik was a little out of our way, but I thought Ray would, as I did, find it worth the extra miles. Once we'd visited there for a day or so, we would make our way to Nunavut and then on to King William Island.

I heard him come back a little later, and opened my door to find him in the hallway. "Ah, you're back," I said.

Instead of saying where he had been, Ray said, "Yeah. I'm back. You want something?"

I shook my head nonchalantly. When Ray stared at me, I amended, "Well, over an hour ago, Dief began expressing his desire to visit you, and I heard voices coming from across the hall. I could be mistaken, but the second voice sounded like Francesca's, and that would explain Dief's eagerness, since she often gives him snacks."

"You know what?"

I shook my head again.

"It's none of your business who I have over."

"Right you are."

Dief looked up at Ray with doleful eyes.

"Nosy mutt," Ray grumbled.

I cleared my throat. "Anyway, I've prepared a tentative itinerary."

I told him the plans I had made, and he had plenty to say about them. But we finally agreed, more or less, on our travel route. We also agreed that I would contact officials at Gjoa Haven once we had told Ray's parents our plan in the morning. He looked as if he were dreading that conversation.

* * *

"What's this all about, Stanley? I know you didn't get me and your mother over here to join you and your partner for brunch." Damian had been acting agitated since he and Barbara arrived, and he finally bubbled over.

"Well, no," Ray admitted. "Fraser, you wanna tell them?"

I hadn't expected Ray to hand the entire explanation over to me, but I was determined not to let him down. I cleared my throat and Damian looked at me, back at Ray, then at his wife. He looked very uncertain and uneasy, as if he thought bad news was coming.

Just as I was about to begin, Damian said, "Isn't this maybe something _you_ should tell us, son?"

"I think Fraser can explain it better," Ray said, eyes downcast.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"With all due respect, sir," I said, "you can't expect to judge my capability on an unknown subject."

Damian sighed and put his face in his hands, leaning on the bar. "Fine. Just hurry it up."

"Damian, give them a chance," said Barbara.

I endeavored to explain as quickly and succinctly as I could, in order to alleviate Damian's worries, whatever they were.

"You're going back?" Barbara asked, obviously concerned.

"That's it?" said Damian, not looking satisfied.

"Y-yeah... that's it," Ray confirmed.

"Isn't it enough?" said Barbara.

"Well... sure," Damian said, looking like he was just catching up with the rest of us. "I mean, we just found out you were home and you're talking about leaving again. That's certainly enough."

"What did you think it was going to be?" Ray asked.

"I didn't know. It's just that... well, you remember your friend Jamar?"

I hadn't heard of Jamar before, unless Ray had told me and I'd forgotten. Which, I must admit, is possible.

"Yeah... he pretty much saved my life on the playground... more than once. He got me into boxing and he taught me to talk street. How could I not remember Jamar? We were like brothers."

I knew I would have to ask more about this person later. He was obviously very special to Ray, and he was sure to have good stories about the two of them.

"Right. Well... there were times when I wondered if the two of you... if you were..."

I waited, baffled.

"What, Dad? Just say it!" Ray exclaimed angrily.

Suddenly, I thought I knew. And whether I was right or not, I didn't think this was a conversation I should be listening to. I looked at Ray's mother, who seemed upset. "Missus Kowalski, er, Barbara, I'd like your opinion on some curtains I purchased for my apartment. Uh, shall we...?"

I led her out of the apartment, leaving Ray and his father alone. "The, uh... the walls are a dull beige color, and I'm not sure how best to brighten the room," I explained, ushering her into my apartment.

Dief danced around us, curious about the sudden departure.

I went to stand by the living room window. "What do you think?" I asked, pulling out the newly hung curtain.

She looked for a moment as if she didn't know what to say. "Benton," she said at last, "it's very sweet of you to make an excuse to let Stanley and his father talk alone."

"Oh, it's not just an excuse. I truly would value your opinion," I assured her. "And I recommend that you start calling him Ray when you're away from him. It will help you remember when you're with him."

She nodded. "You are a good man. A good friend for our boy. I'm very glad he has you. I never really thought there was anything... romantic going on between the two of you, but I thought if there were, Ray would tell us in his own time. And that's what I told Damian, too..."

She paused as Ray's voice rose across the hall, climaxing in the words "I do not wanna make out with him, for god's sake!"

At least that confirmed that my suspicions had been correct. I watched her face, ready to tailor my reaction to hers.

She sighed. "We are religious people, but we haven't been very... devout, I guess you'd say, in recent years. I know that certain beliefs are still important to both Damian and me, but I also know that we both love our son unconditionally." A tear ran down her face. "We could never stop loving him, no matter what he chose to do. Damian can hold a grudge, but it doesn't mean he doesn't love him."

I fetched some tissues for her. "I can see that you both love him very much," I said soothingly. "And I can tell he loves you, too. He speaks fondly of you both."

She smiled and wiped her eyes. "I wish Damian hadn't brought it up this way... but since it seems to be important to him, I also wish they'd talked it out a long time ago."

"That might have been better," I said, "but I find it's best to focus on what has happened, rather than on what _might_ have happened."

"Yes, that's wise. I'm sorry, but no one's asked you how _you_ feel about all this."

I shook my head. "I think it's safe to say that Ray and I have a mutual regard for one another. I'm not offended by your husband's assumptions. But I do feel that if they offended _him,_ he certainly should not have waited so long to make it known. But again... that's in the realm of what might have happened."

"Mm."

Things had gotten very quiet next door.

Barbara looked at my curtains again. "I think something in more of a sky blue would be nice," she commented. "Perhaps with a subtle floral pattern."

I smiled. "I knew you'd have the answer. Let's rejoin the others."

We crossed the hall and I knocked softly on Ray's door. After a moment, he opened it.

"Your mother has been an admirable help with the curtains," I said. "Would you like us to rejoin you now, or do I have time to discuss sheets with her?"

Ray grabbed me by the epaulette and tugged me toward himself. "Get in here, you freak."

I knew by this time that Ray used the term "freak" to refer to the many ways in which we were different, and it passed almost for a term of endearment.

* * *

The air still seemed tense, but gradually the tension dissipated. I did my best to assure both of Ray's parents that we would be safe in our travels and come back before long. I was glad Damian shook my hand when they left. His grip was strong, and so was mine. There would be no grudge between us on either side, and we both knew it. I hoped I would get to spend more time with them after the trip.

"I knew they'd understand," I told Ray when they were gone.

He sighed. "Sure... but only because it wasn't nearly as horrible as what my dad thought was going on."

I objected to his exaggeration. "Oh, Ray."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

He asked if I had always known he was straight, and after bringing up the 'Do you find me attractive' conversation, I pointed out how easily distracted he was by all things feminine.

"I'll be in the middle of explaining something to you, a woman will go through your line of sight, and I'll know I've lost you."

"Nuh-uh!"

I decided to go ahead and stoop to his level. "Yuh-huh."

Dief barked.

"Like you're any better," Ray snapped at him. He looked back at me. "You know the one time I doubted your straightness? Two words for you: buddy breathing."

I pointed out how unlikely it was that I would ever kiss him, even if I thought we were going to die. "More likely a salute," I concluded.

Ray snorted. "Yup, that sounds like you."

I felt a little warm in my uniform and I realized that even though I'm an open-minded person, the conversation had not left me completely unaffected by embarrassment. Still, I was glad we had talked openly about it all. I decided that was a good time to gently reprimand Ray for the way he inappropriately poked fun at his suspects. He argued at first, but then seemed to agree that he sometimes took things too far.

"Well, um... what do we do now? About our travel plans, I mean."

"Now I put in a call to Gjoa Haven."

Which I did. It took some time to get through, but it was time well-spent. The wheels set in motion, we could finally make solid plans for our departure.

"We're going back to Canada," Ray said.

His declaration seemed to finally make it official. I was really going home again, if only for a short time. And one of my best friends was going with me. I felt my mouth involuntarily stretch into a smile. It felt good.

* * *

Ray drove me to the consulate where my assignments for the day were quite light. I took the opportunity to discuss my vacation time with Inspector Lam while Ray went to fetch our lunch. The inspector seemed to have mixed feelings about it, but he could hardly object, since he had insisted on my taking at least two weeks' vacation time that year.

Over lunch, I brought up Ray's friend Jamar, and he promised to introduce us should the opportunity arise. We discussed street lingo some more after I suggested that Jamar might be able to help me with it. Ray said it wasn't something one could learn from a lesson or two. He wouldn't even let me take notes on his definitions. It seemed I could find no shortcuts, and I was eager to learn at a faster rate than he was willing to teach.

"Fraser, you trust me?"

I didn't know why he was asking, but I answered, "Implicitly. Surely you know that."

"Well, yeah. Or I would if I could remember what implicitly means."

I smiled. "In this instance, 'without qualification or reserve.'"

"That's what I thought."

He didn't give any reason for his question, and I decided not to ask.

When we were done, Ray drove us to the precinct so we could inform Lt. Welsh and our friends of our plans. RayV objected strongly to them at first, but gradually stopped arguing and started giving cautions and advice.

Detective Huey drew me aside to tell me he and his partner had hoped I would sing their song of choice for Francesca. I assured them that Turnbull would be more than happy to sing it for them, knowing that for me to sing to Francesca after telling her my intentions toward her might upset her very badly. I did, however like the country music genre, so I offered them a song recommendation for which they thanked me.

When we had RayV convinced to let us go without further argument, he asked, "When are you leaving?"

I had not yet told RayK the time of our flight. I looked at him, a little worried that he might object, but we couldn't waste any time. "First thing in the morning, partner?" I asked.

He took a deep breath and then nodded solemnly.

RayV left his desk to give us his admonishments to be careful, for RayK to listen to me on matters of terrain and climate, and to make sure I didn't lick anything that could hurt me. (Side note: RayV seemed to think I shouldn't be licking _anything_ that wasn't fresh food, but it was RayK who saved me from being electrocuted by licking the wrong thing.)

"Don't forget to come back," he told me. I thought he looked as if he half wished he could come with us, but he knew he was needed in Chicago.

"I won't," I promised.

He hugged both of us. RayK told him to take care of "our family." I knew he was speaking strictly of the Vecchios, not his own parents.

Then RayK took Francesca down the hall, and I felt sure he was going to tell her his intentions. I silently wished him a favorable outcome.

"Those two an item?" RayV asked me quietly when they were out of sight. "She was out with him again last night."

I shook my head. "I don't believe so—not yet. But they could be by the time they come back."

"Should I be worried?"

"As much for Ray as for Francesca."

He smiled a little. "Gonna miss you."

"I know. I wish you could come along."

"Well... hell, not me," he said, not quite succeeding in sounding careless. "I've seen enough of the frozen North. You can have it. Long as you come back in one piece. Well, the two of you, so two pieces."

Francesca hugged me when she and RayK came back to us. I couldn't tell for sure what had happened between them. "Take care of him," she whispered to me before letting go and turning to RayK. She whispered something to him as well, but I was careful not to listen.

Then we left. I felt a little regretful to leave our friends, even for only two weeks, but I was very excited to be on our way. I let out some of my enthusiasm by singing a sample of the country song I'd recommended to Huey and Dewey for Ray, but he soon tired of it, so I stopped.

When we got home, Ray went to pack and I called the airport to confirm our flight. I heard his cell phone ring shortly before I got done. He was speaking in a low voice. I decided to tidy his kitchen a little to keep from accidentally listening in.

As I was washing out his coffee pot, he emerged and told me the call had been from RayV, who wanted him to see Mrs. Vecchio before leaving. I thought that was a good idea, since the last time she had seen us, RayK had been rather out of favor. So, once I figured out how to program his coffee maker, we left for the Vecchio house.

Ray apologized to his surrogate mother again for what had happened on our last visit, and she quickly dismissed the incident with a thinly veiled warning that nothing of the sort should ever happen again. After that, she was all concern for our safety, and ended up giving Ray a St. Christopher medal that had been her husband's. When she said she was sorry she didn't have another for me, I told her I was sure to be safe if Ray was. I didn't intend to let him out of my sight.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. As usual, feedback is much appreciated. Thank you kindly. ~B. Fraser  
_


	37. There Oughtta Be a Law

_Ray assumes the low readership in the last couple of days is due to the site being down. In spite of only two people making it to the last chapter, we're going ahead with this one. ~B. Fraser_

 _It starts in this world...  
_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-seven: There Oughtta Be a Law

January, 2018.

All of us alters tend to sleep in the same room, often in very close quarters. As has become our custom, Ray fell asleep beside me last night. He has been the character Mairead has felt closest to of late, so he has spent the most time "in front." As such, they often share dreams and other experiences. One night, or rather in the wee hours of the morning, Mairead awoke with a start and a gasp. She had had a brief, but disturbing, nightmare. Since Ray was the most readily available to help her cope, it became his nightmare.

"Ray?" I whispered, not wanting to wake the others.

"Yeah?" he whispered back.

"Are you all right?"

He sighed. "Yeah... it was just a stupid nightmare. A body coming to life in a coffin. It wasn't you, though. Well..." he chuckled quietly, "if it was you, I couldn't tell. It was... more... decomposed."

"I see. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? It's not your fault. Well... maybe indirectly because of that self-induced coma thing, but..."

"So, you're okay?"

"Mhm."

But he let me put an arm around him and moved closer to me so he could feel my warmth. I don't think he went back to sleep before it was time to get up. We had a long day and Mairead's two part-time jobs to deal with ahead of us. It's a good thing we have coffee and sweet things to mix into it.

* * *

1990's.

I tried to use up my perishables when I made dinner the night before our departure. I had a little milk and a couple of eggs left, so I decided to make French toast in the morning. After dinner I walked Dief, double-checked that I had packed everything I would need, and turned in early.

I was up with the sun and had Dief fed and walked by 5:30. I set about making breakfast and ate my fill. Diefenbaker watched like a bird of prey, hoping I would drop something, but I didn't. I had a few leftover pieces of toast, but I set them aside in case Ray would want them. I doubted he would have time to make himself a proper breakfast. His parents would be arriving before seven.

As I had said I would, I waited until 6:15 before going across to Ray's apartment. He didn't answer my knock, so I used the spare key and let myself in. Dief suddenly became very excited, running for Ray's bedroom. I could hear Ray stirring, and realized he was in the throes of yet another nightmare. I wondered why Dief hadn't alerted me sooner, and supposed the smell of the French toast in my apartment and coffee in Ray's had possibly masked whatever normally tipped him off.

Ray was still asleep when I reached his room, moving in restless twitches, with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Ray," I said softly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Dief began licking Ray's face.

"Ray," I repeated, louder. "Ray. _Ray."_

He seemed to be coming to.

"Ray?"

"Yeah," Ray answered, opening his eyes.

"It's time to wake up. Are you all right?"

He groaned and rolled onto his side, facing me. He looked exhausted. "I'm tired. And my face has slobber on it."

"The sun's been up for an hour."

"The sun doesn't need sleep. I do." He pulled the covers over his face.

"The coffee's ready," I said, hoping to coax him out.

He pulled the edge of the covers down far enough to see me. "Bring me a cup?"

I knew he was tired, but that was all the more reason to get up and moving. If he drank his coffee in bed, I thought it would merely delay his getting ready to go. "I think you can get it yourself."

"Please? I'll get up. I promise."

I glanced at Dief, who said seemed to be offering to hold Ray to his promise. "Very well." I went to the kitchen and fixed Ray a cup of coffee, stirring in a few chocolate chips to make him happy.

He did get up before he finished his coffee, and ate the leftover French toast I brought over for him. Then his parents arrived while he was taking a shower.

Barbara had brought some warm clothes for Ray to take with him. I was glad to know he would be well prepared for the cooler temperatures. He offered to take my key to Ms. Tate, and while he did that, his parents and I made sure all his appliances and lights were turned off and the heat turned down low. Then we locked the two apartments and took our bags down to the Kowalskis' car.

Barbara and I shared a smile when Damian hugged Ray goodbye. I had always shaken my father's hand when we parted, and though it was nice to feel that he respected me as a man, part of me knew that I was still a child who wanted a hug from his dad. Damian wasn't going to leave Ray with the same feeling.

Ray chose the aisle seat on the plane and dozed off for a bit. The first part of the trip went quickly and smoothly—until I had to explain to Ray about our connecting flights. He did some shouting and went so far as to call me a "bastard," which I found quite offensive for more than one reason, but I reminded myself that Ray rarely took such terms literally, and was just letting out his surprise and annoyance in his habitual way. I saw that some of the other passengers looked ruffled as well, and I did my best to quiet him.

Once he settled down, I was able to enjoy the rest of the trip. We had lunch on one of the longer flights and I enjoyed looking at the sunset and mountain ranges until it got dark. Then my view was of inky blackness and clusters of lights like stationary fireflies in the distance. I slept a while on the flight to Yellowknife, and again on the way to Inuvik. But when I woke up with about 45 minutes left to our flight, I was too excited to fall asleep again.

I watched the lights of the airport getting bigger and heard Ray sit up beside me as the captain announced that we were about to land. "We're in luck, Ray. We're actually twenty minutes early," I told him.

He mumbled, "You... _something-or-other."_

"What was that?"

"I said, 'You don't say.'"

Maggie was waiting for us when we disembarked. She and I exchanged a familial caress and then she shook Ray's hand, telling him she was glad to see him again.

"Good to see you, too," he said earnestly.

Knowing of his interest in Francesca, I worried a little about my sister's feelings. He might hurt her if he wasn't careful.

Ray pulled his coat tightly around himself when we got outside with our bags. "Holy crap, it's cold," he said. "I knew I should have layered up more, but I didn't want to be hot on the plane."

"Well, don't worry; it's plenty warm at the cabin," Maggie assured him.

We got into a taxi and talked a bit sleepily until we arrived at my sister's home.

I was pleased to see she had a solid, comfortable dwelling. It was a bit small, but more than large enough for her needs.

While Maggie changed into her RCMP uniform, Ray and I revived the dying fire in her fireplace. I thought she must have brought the wood in from south of Inuvik or along the MacKenzie River. Trees were not a common resource so far north, but the relatively warm river made favorable conditions for their growth along its banks.

"You haven't said how things went with Francesca," I said quietly as Ray handed sticks of firewood to me. "I know you're not obligated to..."

"It, um... it went," he said vaguely.

I held out my hand. "Split piece, please. What does that mean?"

"It means a piece that's been cut, not a round log."

"No, what does 'it went' mean," I clarified. Ray was clearly too tired to follow more than one thread of conversation at once.

"It means... she didn't turn me down flat."

"Mm."

"But she didn't say she'd go out with me, either."

"Hm."

"So... I basically said she could think about it while I was gone."

"I see." I had banked up the coals in the middle of a firewood outline and the large pieces of wood were already smoking, but I asked Ray for kindling to build up the middle of the fire with.

He handed it over slowly, all motion at the mercy of his sleepiness. "Yeah. It's kinda... not much to go on."

"And Maggie?" I asked, carefully piling the kindling from small to large.

He smiled a little. "Maggie," he repeated.

"You seem to still find her attractive. Split pieces, please."

He passed me more cut firewood. "Yeah... she's... she's nice."

"What if the two of you become enamored of one another and then you return to Chicago to find that Francesca is ready to entertain your advances? Large log, please."

He stared at the box of firewood for a moment before grabbing a log and handing it to me. "Wait... what?" he asked.

I sighed. "Never mind. We'll talk about it after you've slept."

"Okay."

I set the last piece of wood on top of my structure and moved away from it. "Here you go," I said, gesturing toward the smoking pile of wood.

Ray scooted up in front of the fireplace and stared at the glowing coals.

"Blow on it," I prompted.

"Right." He leaned forward and blew a long steady breath at the coals, as I had taught him on our previous journey. He had proven a more apt student for fire-building than Ray Vecchio had when the two of us were stranded in the wilderness.

The small kindling at the bottom of the pile went up in a flash of yellow and orange. Then the larger tinder caught fire, and soon the whole pile was encompassed by sharp, greedy flames.

Ray moved back a little and held his hands out toward the fire, smiling. "Forgot how nice a fire can be. This is a good one, Fraser."

"We had good wood to work with," I answered, moving closer to him.

"And we didn't have to build it on snow or ice," Ray added. He yawned and leaned his head on my shoulder.

Maggie opened her bedroom door then, and Ray sat up to look around at her.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Maggie said. "I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't need anything else from my room before I left. I didn't want to disturb you."

"No problem," Ray told her. He looked a little unsteady as he started to get up, so I stood and offered him a hand. "Thanks," he said. "I'm gonna hit the sack. Good night."

"Good morning, to be precise," I answered.

He waved his hand at me dismissively as he walked to the bedroom door. He shut the door behind him.

I smiled at Maggie. "When do you have to go?"

She checked her watch. "Not for a little while, but you probably want to go right to sleep, too."

"I wouldn't mind talking awhile if you have the time."

She nodded and we sat on the bedroll she had laid out for me, facing the fire.

"Poor Ray," she said. "He seems completely worn out."

"Yes. He slept on the way here, but not enough. And the airplane seats aren't very comfortable for sleeping."

"If he's sore when he wakes up, you can give him some liniment. You'll find that and anything else you need for minor ailments in the bathroom cupboard."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

"And you're welcome to anything in the kitchen, as well. There's pemmican in the cupboard and a pizza in the freezer, and a lot of other things in the refrigerator for sandwiches and so forth."

"Sounds like you have everything from Inuvik to Chicago."

"I'm sure a frozen pizza doesn't do Chicago justice, but I like them pretty well."

"We're not too choosy. Now, if my other friend Ray were here, he might have a complaint or two."

"I hope I get to meet him sometime." She changed position, watching the fire appreciatively. "You laid a good fire."

"Thank you. Ray helped me with it, though he may have no memory of it by the time he wakes up."

"Half asleep, was he?"

I nodded, smiling. It was nice finally being able to sit and talk like this. It didn't make up for not getting to know her when we were children, but it was a step in the right direction. "I wish we could have met sooner," I said.

"So do I. But I think we met when I needed you most."

"Mm. It's good to have family again."

"Yes. I, um... I'm sorry I didn't get to see our father more recently. I saw him a couple of weeks after I last left Chicago, but that was it."

I had written to Maggie about what happened in the mine shaft. "I wish you could have had more time with him," I said, "but once my mother was ready to take her last journey with him... even we weren't enough to keep him here."

"She was his first love. Will you tell me about her sometime? I know you were very young when she died, but you must have some stories."

"Yes. I actually brought one of Dad's earliest journals. You can keep it while Ray and I are on King William's Island if you like."

"I would love that.

"Well, I should probably go," she said, pulling her knees up.

I turned toward her, mimicking her position, and held out my crossed hands to her. She smiled and clasped hands with me. We pulled each other up in perfect counterbalance to one another.

"Thank you," she said.

"Be careful out there." I told her.

"I will. Oh, and the dog shed is around back. You can have five of them for your trip."

"Only five?"

"Star is on maternity leave."

I felt my face light up. "I _thought_ she was pregnant. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"How many?"

"Six. I'm honestly not sure who the father is. Only two of them look like her. There might even be more than one father to the litter. I suspect Nanouk, due to some color and marking similarities, but I'd like to hear your theory once you've seen them."

"Of course. I look forward to it."

I saw Maggie off and then quickly retired to my bedroll. It was nearly five AM, local time, and I knew dawn wasn't far off, so I slept with a stocking hat pulled down over my eyes to keep the daylight from waking me. I slept until after eleven.

* * *

 _Here I will let Ray resume his narrative. ~B. Fraser_

* * *

I don't remember much about building the fire with Fraser, though I do remember seeing how bright it was and warming up my hands. I can hardly believe I was about to fall asleep leaning on him, and yet... yeah, I can see it. I was _so_ tired. I definitely don't remember him asking me about Franny and Maggie. It's a wonder I could walk straight on my way to the bedroom.

I didn't bother getting ready for bed; just pulled my boots off, dropped my shirt on the floor and crawled under the covers. A minute later I wrestled my belt off because it was uncomfortable and dropped that on the floor, too.

What our hostess had called a cot was actually a pretty comfy double bed. She had flannel sheets on it, a wool blanket and a quilt over the top. I shouldn't have trouble keeping warm.

I could hear Fraser and Maggie talking quietly, and thought I heard my name at some point, but I was too tired to try to listen in. They were still talking when I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the room was still dark, but there was a white glow coming through at the edges of the dark curtains. I tried to go back to sleep, but I could hear someone moving around in the main part of the cabin. I think I did finally doze off again, waking back up when I heard a weird squeaking sound and then almost silence.

I crawled out of bed and found my shirt in the dark, pulling it on over my undershirt. I went to the window and peeked out. The sun was kinda low in the sky, but I remembered that was how it looked a lot of the time in the North. It could be any time of day. I looked at my watch. It said it was almost two o'clock. _No way... really?_ Then I remembered that Fraser had said we would be on mountain time. I had forgotten to set my watch back. It was almost noon, local time.

I pulled the curtains wide open so I could see and threaded my belt back through my jeans. Then I grabbed my boots and left the room.

I spotted Fraser in front of the fireplace. "Hey, where's the..." I started, but I stopped because I realized Fraser was holding a puppy. "Where'd you get that?"

"There are five more in the shed out back," he answered. "You want one?"

I laughed. "After I pee. Where's the bathroom?"

He held the wriggling puppy in one hand so he could point with the other.

"Be right back."

When I came out of the bathroom, Fraser was coming in from outside. "I decided to take that one back and pick out two more," he explained. "Their eyes haven't been open long. This young, I don't want to keep them away from their mother for long."

I took one of the puppies from him and looked at its adorable, wrinkled face. "Oh my god, Fraser, they're so damn cute. There oughtta be a law."

"A law?"

"You've never heard anyone use that expression?"

"Not about puppies."

I grinned. "I'm saying they're so cute, there should be a law against it."

"Against their being so cute?"

"Yeah. It's just a joke."

"I see."

We sat in front of the fire again, petting the silky-soft little warm bundles.

"This one looks like Star," I said. "So, she was pregnant when we were up here before?"

He nodded, and I thought I saw something like an actual _twinkle_ in his eye. As if I were holding his baby instead of a puppy, he looked so proud. "Cool. We were right."

"She doesn't seem any the worse for wear, but obviously we won't be taking her with us, since the pups need her."

"So, who's the dad? Could it have been Dief?"

He shook his head. "Not likely. Even if he sired them our first day on the trail, their eyes probably wouldn't be open yet. Canine pregnancies average about nine weeks, and it takes another week or two for their eyes to open."

I went over the math. "Oh, yeah. Probably not."

"Maggie thinks it might be Nanouk."

I looked at the black and white puppy in Fraser's hands. "Yeah, that one does look like him."

"But there are a couple of mavericks in the litter that make us wonder if there might have been more than one father."

"More than one? How does that work?"

Fraser suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Never mind," I said. "I'll take your word for it."

* * *

 _That's it for now. Feel free to leave a comment squeeing over puppies or whatever else you wanna say. ~Ray K.  
_


	38. Sled Team

_Got a thrill last night when we kept refreshing the story properties and saw the view count going up slowly but steadily. We checked the chapter views and found where our reader was, watching him or her go from one chapter to the next. They got to the end of what we had posted and... nothing. Lol. Should have known they wouldn't leave any feedback. But it was still kind of fun and creepy at the same time to stalk them while they read. If that was you, we're harmless. I swear.  
_

 _Thanks again for your review from the middle, Steel (sent a pm). It's nice to hear specifics about what entertained you. We might write up that first adventure eventually. I don't know._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-eight: Sled Team

Fraser left both puppies with me while he put a frozen pizza in the oven. A few minutes later, he came back with a steaming mug.

"Bark tea? If you're sore, this will help."

I scrunched up one side of my face. "Milk and sugar?"

"Yes."

I took the mug and sipped at the hot liquid. I didn't care much for the flavor, but I had learned to tolerate it on my last visit to Canada. Fraser swore by it (not literally, of course), and when you're cold enough, any warm beverage is inviting. The first bittersweet taste brought memories rushing back...

 _"Gah! Fraser, this is disgusting."_

 _"You're just not used to it. Give it a chance."_

 _"Maybe if you put some milk and sugar in it... or at least sugar."_

 _"I'm afraid we didn't bring any."_

 _"Ugh. I'm sorry, I can_ not _drink this. You take it."_

 _"But you're cold. It'll warm you up."_

 _"Well... I guess I can choke a little more down. Next time, can you just make coffee like a normal person?"_

 _"This is better for you."_

 _"So is spinach. You don't expect me to drink spinach tea, do you?"_

 _"...No."_

 _"Okay, that's all I can take. You have the rest."_

 _"Very well. But when you're feeling cold again in a couple of minutes, don't come running to me."_

I pulled myself back to the present before I could dredge up memories of hypothermia and looming frostbite. That wasn't going to happen this time around. I was going to listen to Fraser more and act a little smarter and _not stay as long._ I hoped to God that Fraser's theory gave us a conclusive ending to our adventure.

 _Why, oh why didn't I tell him I wanted to discover something in Cancun or Hawaii?_ I thought wryly. Too late now.

I grabbed the black puppy before he could get too close to the fire. "They keep going toward the fireplace," I said. "What's the deal?"

"Well, even though their eyes are open, they're not fully developed. Their sight and hearing will remain rudimentary for several more days, at least. Their senses of smell, taste and touch are much more important to them at this stage of development."

"Huh. I didn't know that. I don't think I've ever seen puppies quite this young. Their ears are so tiny... and they're just little paws and a head connected by belly. You know what they look like? They look like hamsters."

Ten-point smile. "I think I should put these two back now. Keep an eye on the pizza, all right?"

"Okay."

Fraser came back a few minutes later with the other silver one, like Star, and one of the "mavericks." That one had a coat that went from pale grey to silver-blue on its back, and it had a very distinct white mask that didn't really look like Star or Nanouk. Nanouk has a white face with just a little black around his blue eyes and a sort of narrow white stripe going up between them. Star's face is even whiter, the white fanning out in a round pattern on both sides of her muzzle, making her look kind of owlish. A vertical oval on her forehead that isn't quite connected to the rest of the white is where she got her name. She also has blue eyes. The white of the puppy's face surrounded its eyes, but dipped down in the middle.

At this point all the puppies had blue eyes. Fraser said some of them might turn brown in a few weeks. If they did, that would mean either that Nanouk was not the father after all, or that there had been more than one father to the litter.

"Just 'cause their eyes are different?" I asked.

"Blue is a recessive color," Fraser said.

I suddenly had a flashback to a science classroom. Something about a monk and pea plants. "So... if both parents have blue eyes, the puppies will definitely have blue eyes?"

"No. Not necessarily. Huskies have a particular gene that causes blue eyes, and it's a separate cause from, say, a dog with white patches having one or both blue eyes. Nanouk and Star both have dark skin around their eyes, so I'm fairly certain that their eye color is not caused by their skin and hair pigmentation pattern. That means they have the rare gene that is almost entirely unique to huskies..."

"Fraser, my brain's starting to hurt. Simple answer."

"The simple answer is that if those two are the parents... yes, the puppies will almost certainly have blue eyes, too."

"Thank you."

He sighed. "You're welcome. It smells like the pizza is done."

I buttoned my shirt halfway, tucked it into my jeans and nestled the puppies inside against my stomach. "Okay. Lunchtime."

"Looks like you've already eaten."

"Hardy-ha-ha. Yeah, I had a couple of hotdogs." I got up slowly. My back was very sore, and I cringed as I followed Fraser to the kitchen area and sat on a stool.

"Are you all right?" he asked me.

"Stiff."

"Maggie said there's liniment in the bathroom cupboard."

"Okay. Maybe I'll try that." Maybe I'd try it later, when Maggie was back... when she might see me with my shirt off...

"You know, you could have one of those pups if you want one."

For a moment I was tempted, but I shook my head. "I can't get a puppy. I don't have the time. I need one that comes ready-trained."

He nodded. "Yes, that makes the most sense."

"I mean, if I get one at all," I added. "I haven't decided to do it."

Fraser brought the hot pizza over.

"Oh, my gosh, it's Hawaiian?" I couldn't remember the last time I saw a frozen pizza that came in that variety. Of course, it had been a while since I looked.

"Yes, I mentioned to her that you liked pineapple."

"You must have told her a lot in the last couple of weeks."

"I had to send her money for the dogs' upkeep anyway, and it's been a long time since I had a pen pal," he said, cutting the pizza neatly into quarters. "I've enjoyed writing to her. Some of my letters were quite verbose, I'm afraid."

"Verbose?"

"Wordy."

"Like father, like son, huh?"

He smiled a little. "Perhaps. I brought one of my father's journals to leave with Maggie while we're away."

"Cool." I wondered what my dad's journal was like. Probably boring as hell. _"Changed the oil today and did a little gardening."_ I smirked. "When will she be back?"

"Any time now, I imagine. The plan is to spend another night here and leave in the morning. Does that suit you?"

I nodded. I wouldn't have minded much if we spent the whole two weeks with Maggie, but I knew this thing about the grave at Gjoa Haven was going to bug me if we didn't check it out.

We ate three quarters of the pizza (it wasn't that big) and put the puppies back in the shed. Then I went looking for the liniment. I had planned to wait, but I was really sore, and I was starting to think the idea of an exhibition for Maggie's benefit wasn't a good one. It would probably just embarrass her... or me... and definitely Fraser.

"Hey," I called from the bathroom, "did you ask me about something last night? When we were making the fire?"

"You told me that Francesca had neither received nor rejected your attentions, and that you had told her to take our time away to consider," he summed up. "Then I asked what might happen if you took up with Maggie and returned to find that Francesca was ready for your courtship. You seemed too sleepy to formulate an answer."

 _Attentions? Courtship?_ "Fraser, are you sure you were born in this century?"

"Well, yes, Ray. As was my father."

I peeled off my undershirt and hung it on the doorknob with my flannel shirt. "So, if Maggie and I get something going, and Franny decides she wants me, what'll I do?" I reviewed.

"That's what I was asking, yes."

I poured a little liquid out of the bottle (labeled "Liniment for muscle pain" in neat cursive) into my hand. It smelled weird and strong, but not so bad. I reached over my shoulder and started rubbing it into my skin. It seemed to burn cold. "Whoa. Um... well, if it was a really serious thing with Maggie, I guess I'd tell Francesca that, uh... well, I'd just have to explain. And try not to hurt her feelings."

"And what if you didn't consider it a 'serious thing'?" he asked.

I knew I had to tread very carefully here. If not for Fraser, I'd probably go ahead and try dating Franny anyway... but then there was also Ray to worry about. God, brothers could be scary. I sure could pick 'em... each of the girls I liked was the sister of a good friend. "I guess I'd still have to tell her about Maggie," I said regretfully. "But we could still try going out." I switched to the opposite shoulder. The liniment seemed to be working.

I peeked around the door, but Fraser was tending the fire and I couldn't see his face. "That sound okay?" I asked.

"Honesty is the best policy. I suppose if that were all right with Francesca, I wouldn't have anything to say about it. Except that you should also tell Maggie about her."

I grimaced. "Yeah... okay. That's fair." I experimentally rubbed a little liniment on my chest. This stuff had Vick's totally banged. "I'm a little scared to ask what's in this," I said, "but I think I'm gonna ask Maggie for her recipe."

"Why would you be afraid to ask?"

"Because you make stuff out of mucus membranes and sea cucumbers, and you and your sister have a lot in common." I put the liniment on my neck and everywhere on my back that I could reach, which was just about all of it. I've got longish arms and I'm kind of skinny and flexible, so I've pretty much got it covered. It's just awkward and uncomfortable.

I washed my hands and put the liniment away before pulling my shirts back on. "Whoo, I feel better already. Where'd those puppies get to?"

"You know they're in the shed... and you ended your sentence with a preposition again."

"I did? Well, who cares? I'ma go get a puppy. You want one?" It sounded like I was asking if he wanted a beer.

He smiled and shook his head a little. "Since you're going anyway."

* * *

I was coming back to the cabin with two puppies in my coat when Maggie rode up... on a snowmobile. The snow wasn't deep, but still deep enough, and kind of solid. Damn, she was fine.

"Good afternoon," she called after cutting the engine.

"Hey," I said, grinning. I opened my coat a little so the puppies could peek out. "I was picking up a couple furry friends to play with."

She smiled. "Aren't they adorable? I'm hoping Benton will want to keep one or two of them for the team."

"That would be cool. Then you'd get to raise them."

"Yes. The snowmobile is more convenient for most of my snow traveling, but there's nothing quite like a dogsled. It's a good project to keep me busy, too. Now that I'm not hunting my husband's killers."

"It's a good hobby," I agreed.

We went back inside and passed the puppies around while Maggie nibbled on the leftover pizza.

"I thought we could take the team out," she said. "I've been trying to build up their stamina for you. There's decent snow right now, and they can use a good run before being transported."

"What do you say, Ray?" Fraser asked.

I smiled. "I say... can they pull us all at once?"

"I think they can."

"When the snow melts off, I'll borrow an ATV and let them pull that," said Maggie. "I've already arranged it."

"Good thinking," said Fraser.

I looked down at the puppy I was holding. "Oh... damn it."

"What's wrong?"

"This puppy just peed on my shirt..." I checked my layers. "On both my shirts." I looked up at Maggie. "Do you have a washer and dryer?"

"I do, in the closet beside the bathroom, but you can just wash them in the sink," she suggested. "I can do it for you."

"You don't mind cleaning puppy urine out of someone else's clothes?"

"Not at all."

Looked like she'd be seeing me bare-chested after all... and I'm not normally shy, but I felt weird taking half my clothes off in front of her. Probably just because Fraser was there too.

"It's a good sign, actually," she said, taking my shirts as I handed them to her. "They're urinating on their own."

"Do they need help?" I asked, confused.

"When they're first born, they don't know how," Fraser said. "Their mother stimulates their impulse to excrete waste by licking them."

I made a face. "Ugh. That is so nasty." I started to feel chilly and grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch to put around my shoulders. "You gonna keep any of 'em?"

"Possibly. I'll check them over when we come back. They'll have developed a little more by then, and I might be able to spot the more promising ones."

"So, don't name anyone yet," I joked. I held the little gray pee-bandit against my bare chest. At least I knew its bladder was empty at this point. "What will you do with the rest of them?"

"Maggie can sell them to locals who want sled dogs or family pets." He looked up at her. "And you're welcome to keep a fifty percent commission."

"That's very generous," she said, working soap into the stained spot on my undershirt.

"I think it's fair. You've done all the work."

"Yes, but you're the owner. I'm just the handler."

"A very trusted and valued handler. Call it a family business venture."

"You've certainly given me incentive to get good prices for them. But that shouldn't be hard. You're a little bit famous around here, and everyone in town knows your dogs."

* * *

A little later, my freshly washed shirts were hanging in the shower to dry and I was dressed in new ones. We layered up and went out to hitch up the sled team. Fraser put Nanouk in the lead and the other four in pairs behind him.

"All right, Ray first," Fraser said.

I climbed onto the sled, leaning back against the lashing between the stantions... Fraser had taught me what everything was called over the course of our previous dogsled journey.

When Fraser prompted, Maggie got on in front of me and I put my arms loosely around her waist. Fraser tucked a fur-lined cover over us, giving me a look that said, "You behave yourself."

I nodded to him, knowing a subtle expression would get lost under my ski mask. Boy, I was glad to have that thing. It kept my nose a lot warmer than a scarf did, without suffocating me in the process.

"Let's go, guys," Fraser called to the team.

The dogs, who had been looking around and fidgeting and scratching suddenly all straightened up. Nanouk gave an excited bark and they all moved forward together.

Fraser ran along behind, helping to push the sled until it got up to speed. Then he jumped on and the team was pulling all of us.

Maggie was right: there's nothing like it. It's fast, but not so fast it freaks you out. It's sliding, and pattering paws in the snow and lots of panting, but it's not like the roar of an engine. It makes me feel like I've gone back in time. Like I'm a kid on a snow day. Having my arms around Maggie, however loosely, was a nice bonus.

We stayed out a long time. Over an hour, maybe two. Maggie had kept the dogs in great shape. They were running like it was nothing. She said afterward that she thought they responded better to Fraser's voice than hers. Maybe she was right; he does have that weird connection with Dief, after all.

We fed the dogs and shut them back in the shed one by one. As soon as we saw one poop, we put it away. That was Maggie's system for keeping the shed clean. Maggie and I sat with the puppies while Fraser took Star out for a little exercise.

"I love this one," she said, picking up one of the black puppies. "She's a strong one. Already pushing the others around a little bit, too. She might make a good lead dog someday."

"Can a girl boss the boys?" I asked, reaching out to touch the puppy's head.

"The alpha tends to be male, but it definitely can be a female. And it's good to have more than one good leader in your team, in case one of them is injured. You don't want to be caught without a strong one to keep the pack motivated."

"You know as much about this stuff as Fraser does."

"I always wanted a sled team when I was a little girl. I did have one dog and a toboggan. Bear would pull me to school and then I'd send him home."

"Wow, he was like Lassie! Did he come pick you up, too?"

"No. He didn't magically know what time to come get me. My mother tried sending him once, but he ended up going to a neighbor's and getting into their trash can instead."

I laughed.

"After that he just went with me in the morning. We could trust him to go straight home because Mom always waited to give him breakfast until he came back. We couldn't do that when I got out of school, because he ate supper later than that. My mother was sometimes still at work, anyway. But a lot of the way home was downhill, so I could ride the toboggan down."

"Nice. How old were you?"

"I think I was about twelve when Bear died. He was just a year older than me. Mom got him to keep her company and keep watch after my father... I mean, after her husband died."

I thought it must be weird, having to stop calling someone your dad after twenty-five years or so of thinking that he was. "So, you were going to school by yourself since you were...?"

"About third grade, I think."

"Wow. I don't think my mom let me go _anywhere_ by myself until I was at least ten. Let alone someplace at the same time every day... that would just be begging a kidnapper to pick me up."

"Looking back, I can hardly believe I was allowed to. But at least on the way there, I had my dog. And we lived in a quiet neighborhood with a low crime rate."

"That's good. I don't really know what that's like."

Fraser came back into the shed with Star.

"How's she doing?" Maggie asked.

"She seems just fine." Fraser guided Star over the low side of the wooden puppy box and took her collar off.

Maggie set the black puppy down as the others started crowding around their mother. "Let's give them some family time and go get dinner," she said.

* * *

 _Fraser reminded me that the monk I was thinking of was named Mendel, if you want to look him up. (He thinks doing science homework is a leisure pastime, apparently.) Comments are still welcome. Just so you know. ~Ray K.  
_


	39. Sing, Swing, Sting

_Here's an action-packed chapter for ya. Enjoy.  
_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-nine: Sing, Swing, Sting

Maggie took us to this great little bar and grill (one of the few places a person could go "out to eat" in Inuvik) where we had burgers and some fantastic home-seasoned potato chips. "All dressed" is the flavor's official name, but the people at this particular place made it themselves through some secret, mystical process. I'd had the flavor when I was in Canada before, and gotten totally hooked on them. Those and Smarties, which brings me to a point that may be significant to some.

I realize in my canon, I'm seen stirring Smarties into my coffee. But at the time of the eclipse, I'd actually never had them before. I'd never _heard_ of them before. To me, Smarties were a chalky, fruit-flavored, pastel-colored candy that came in rolls, wrapped in cellophane. That's the American candy by that brand name. What I was putting in my instant coffee that day was, in fact, M&M's. Why did they make it Smarties in the show, then? I don't know. I'm just a fictional character. But judging by all the smart-assery that went into the writing of it, I'm guessing they just stuck 'em in there because they figured if anyone spotted them and knew the difference, they'd get a kick out of it.

So, back to the all dressed chip, I've also learned that they've been available in America since last year, while they've been a Canadian staple for like... forty years. That's whacked, man. They're so addicting. If I'd tried them as a kid, I probably would have changed citizenship over it. I'd have grown up saying "soar-y" for "sorry" and "eh?" at the end of my sentences. I might even have become a freakin' Mountie.

Anyway, on with the story. We had a really good supper at this place, and while the others had soft drinks, I allowed myself a beer. Just one, because I didn't want the others to feel weird about it. Some non-drinkers seem to think any more than one drink will have you drunk, or at least buzzed. Anyway, I didn't have any reason to over-imbibe, and plenty of reason to not want a hangover in the morning.

"Hey, can we pick up some Smarties on the way back?" I asked, munching the last of my chips.

"He has a bit of a sweet tooth," Fraser told her. "Likes to mix chocolate in his coffee."

"Caramel's not bad either," I said.

"We can stop by the Corner Store," said Maggie.

"I didn't know you had a corner to put a store on," I teased. "Your town's smaller than a two-shot pistol."

She smiled and shook her head. "Actually, we should go to Northmart. I wanted to get some pictures before you left, and I need film. I'm not sure the Corner Store would have it."

I had been to a Northmart in Nunavut with Fraser last time, and he'd already set me straight that it was _not_ the Canadian name for Walmart. "Okay. Sounds good." I looked at the teenager who was doing some karaoke thing that sounded like a song he was way too young to know by heart—the Beatles or Simon and Garfunkel, or some Canadian equivalent. "His voice isn't bad," I commented.

"There's a lady who sings whenever she's here on karaoke night, but I don't see her this time," said Maggie. "I wish you could hear her."

"Fraser sings."

"Well..." Fraser started his awkward modesty thing.

"He sang with a country star once. A live performance."

Now he was turning red.

"Really?" Maggie asked. "You never told me that."

"Well, it wasn't... that..."

"It was a big deal," I said, rubbing it in. I remembered having to physically push Fraser onto the stage when it came to the point, but the important thing was, he had done it.

"You should sing here," Maggie said eagerly.

He shook his head. "I couldn't. Have _you_ ever sung here?"

"Yes," she said. She looked down for a moment. "I sang a hymn here when my mother died, actually. It was a very emotional time, and I found singing to be a good outlet."

We were quiet for a minute and the teenager finished his song.

Maggie lifted her head. "Since then, I've tried a few more contemporary things, though. They seemed to like it. If I can do it, you can."

"Well..." Fraser rubbed his ear, another nervous tick I don't think he's realized he has.

"Go on, sing for your sister," I urged. "Sing that stupid country song you picked out for the duck boys."

He jerked his head up. "It's not _stupid,_ Ray..."

"Well, good. So sing it."

"I'm sure they wouldn't have the proper accompaniment."

"See Joe in the corner there?" Maggie asked. Following her gaze, we saw a middle-aged man at a table. On the floor behind him was a guitar case. "He's always willing to lend out his guitar. You play, don't you?"

A little hesitation was all the answer she needed.

"I'll go ask to borrow it."

"Uh... Maggie... _Maggie,"_ Fraser whispered loudly, but she ignored him, crossing the room to the man in the corner.

I grinned, laughing quietly.

Fraser gave me a look. "I hope you're happy."

"I'm _mad-_ happy, Fraser."

No one else had gotten up to sing, and the atmosphere was getting restless (among the dozen or so patrons) when Maggie came back with the guitar. "Come on, I'll introduce you," she offered.

Still reluctant, Fraser let her lead him to the front of the room. And the microphone.

A couple of people recognized Maggie and called her name and clapped.

"Good evening, everyone," she said into the microphone. "I'm Margaret MacKenzie, RCMP, and I'm proud to introduce my brother, Benton Fraser, also RCMP."

Just about everyone in the place clapped at that, and one woman yelled, "Gorgeous family, Maggie!"

I couldn't contain my chuckles, but no one heard me over the chatter and applause.

Fraser took the guitar from Maggie. "I was born in Inuvik and spent some years here as a boy," he said into the microphone. "It's good to be back for a visit. With your permission, I'll sing for you 'When You Say Nothing At All.'"

Tons of applause. Obviously there were some country fans who recognized the title. They got super quiet when he started playing the little intro. Then he started singing, and there wasn't a single sound besides his voice and the guitar. No one ate their fries. No one took a sip of their drink.

Maggie slipped quietly back into her seat. Even she was so captivated by Fraser's voice that she didn't say anything to me. I wanted to say something like, "See, I told you," but even I couldn't bring myself to be the one guy talking during his performance. It was almost as if everyone were taking the key line of the song to heart.

But boy, when he got done, did that place ever get loud. Shouts of "Bravo" and "Stay in your hometown!" were mixed with the clapping, and I swear I heard one "Marry me!"

Fraser just quietly bowed his head a moment before saying, "Thank you kindly for making me feel welcome." Then he returned the guitar to its owner and came back to us.

"Damn, Fraser," I said, "you killed that song."

Maggie looked at me in surprise. "Didn't you like it?"

"No, I mean he was good. If I said he murdered it, that would be bad, but killing it is good."

"It's part of an American sub-dialect in which Ray has been educating me," Fraser explained to her.

"Oh, how interesting," said Maggie, actually sounding like she meant it. "How many dialects does America have?"

"I... uh... well, we got Cajun and surfer," I muttered.

"As I understand it, there are more than twenty unique regional speech patterns," Fraser answered for me.

"Street's not so much regional as... urban," I said. "Like, you wouldn't hear it out in the country. More downtown. It's kinda... slang-based."

"Fascinating." She really sounded fascinated. I usually hear the words "fascinating" and "interesting" from people who sound really bored. "I'd like to hear more about it. But it's getting late."

I checked my watch, which I had set to local time. "Oh, wow. I forgot it doesn't get dark until really late. I thought it was like... seven or seven-thirty. Not nine."

"Yes, and the stores won't be open much longer, so we should go."

We paid for our dinner and made our way out of the restaurant. It took us a while, because people kept stopping Fraser to tell him how much they enjoyed his song.

* * *

Back at the cabin, I stuffed my supply of Smarties into my backpack. Then I came out to join the others in the living room. Maggie's buying film had inspired me to buy a couple of disposable cameras, and I brought one of those out with me.

"I wanna go get some puppies," I said. "My mom's gonna want to see them."

The others approved, and I went out to the shed.

I could hear the dogs barking as I approached. "It's just me, guys," I called.

Most of them quieted down, but someone woofed loudly when I opened the door. I looked down the row of spacious kennels and saw Nanouk standing with his ears, hackles and tail all straight up.

"Hey, what's wrong, buddy?" I asked.

He looked toward me and his tail lowered a little, but other than that, he didn't move.

I looked around the shed, but everything seemed fine. I went to the puppy box and shoved the three most alert-looking ones into my coat. By the time I went back to the door, Nanouk's hackles were a little lower, but he still looked like he was listening hard. I frowned. I'd mention it to Fraser and see if he thought it was worth checking around for a trespasser's footprints.

A few things happened at once, then. One, I opened the door. Two, Nanouk erupted into hellish snarling. Three, something was bearing down on me. I tried to get out of the way, getting hit on the shoulder instead of the head. It was a pretty solid blow, and I knew I'd be hurting, but I couldn't think about the pain. I was unarmed (I hadn't thought there would be any need to unpack my boot gun in Inuvik), and I had fragile cargo. I stumbled away from my attacker, just trying to get some distance between us. All the dogs were barking now.

"I've waited a long time for you to come back," said the stranger, a beefy, over-the-hill man. His weapon was a baseball bat.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, hoping I could talk sense into him. He looked possibly drunk, but maybe he was just crazy.

"Four years ago." He swung his bat into a gloved hand with a menacing "puff... puff" sound.

I kept backing away, trying to find a way to circle around toward the cabin. I kept my hand up toward him, the arm on the injured side wrapped around my waist to make sure no puppies fell out of the bottom of my coat.

"You tracked me down with a damn _dogsled._ Three hundred kilometers..."

 _He's bat-sh*t crazy!_ I thought, trying not to panic.

"An' all those kilometers back..." He suddenly took another swing at me.

I jumped back, almost losing my footing in the frozen footprints that acted like potholes in the snow. "Watch it—I've got puppies in my coat, man!"

For a second, he looked a little confused. Then he shook it off and resumed his stalk-an'-talk. "Ain't that sweet. You look different... sound different, now that you've spent all that time in the states... but your name is burned in my memory. And when I heard you were back in your hometown..."

I suddenly realized what the hell he was rambling about. Someone had told him Benton Fraser of the RCMP was back in town. Maggie had said his full name to a room full of people. Word spreads quick in a small town. It had spread to someone with a grudge. "FRASER!" I shouted loudly.

But he and Maggie, as I learned later, had already heard the dogs and left the cabin, Fraser creeping down the side closer to me, and Maggie circling around the other way.

"I'm not him," I said desperately, keeping just ahead of him as he lunged forward again. "I don't even look like him!"

"You couldda had plastic surgery," he pointed out.

I closed my eyes a moment and groaned. This conversation sounded way too familiar. _"Really?!"_

"He's right," Fraser said, stepping out from the corner of the cabin. "I believe it's me you're looking for."

I was so relieved (and shocked that Fraser had ended a sentence with a preposition) that I dropped my guard and when the guy poked me with his bat, I fell back on my butt in the snow.

"So it is," he said. "You're the son of a gun who hauled me in for... _fishing over the limit."_

My eyes widened. "That's it? Fishing over the limit? You've been waiting four years to jack Fraser up just because of a lousy fishing misdemeanor?!"

"I did time for that!" the guy snapped at me before turning his attention back to Fraser. "So, yeah. I'm gonna... jack him up. Whatever the hell that means."

"No, you're not," Fraser said calmly.

"Oh, yeah?" He looked Fraser over. "You're not carryin' a weapon."

"That's correct. But my sister is."

Maggie stepped out from the other side of the cabin, revolver in hand. "Put the bat down, sir," she ordered.

I couldn't believe those two. If I'd had the gun, I'd have been all, "Drop the bat! Get down on the ground! Hands behind your back!" She didn't even raise her voice.

The guy looked Maggie over now. "I heard about you," he said. "You like to go around threatening people with empty guns."

Maggie fired the gun into the snow a few feet away from him. "Only when I'm off-duty," she said.

He dropped the bat.

* * *

Because we wanted to go with Maggie to turn the guy in, I ended up riding the snowmobile with her, while Fraser followed with the prisoner on the dogsled. The same sled and the same man and even some of the same _dogs_ who had brought him in four years earlier were bringing him in again. You could smell the hatred coming off this guy.

Once he was in a cell, I whipped out my camera. "Pose in front of the bars, guys," I said. "It's a Kodak moment!"

The siblings looked at each other.

"Just pose, will ya? Damn it, I wish you were both in uniform. Oh, well."

They posed, and I even managed to get their irate prisoner in the background.

"Fraser, smile."

"I am," he said. He wasn't.

"Fraser, you're in your hometown of Inuvik. You sang for your countrymen tonight, you saved your friend from being beaten to death, you brought in a dangerous criminal with your sister, and you're about to go home and play with puppies! Smile!"

He got up to about a seven or eight-point smile, so I went ahead and took it. Maggie's smile was at least an eight. Pretty darn good. I wound the camera, saying, "Don't move. I'm taking another one in case it doesn't come out. Well, you can move _..._ do a different pose. Fraser, put your arm around her."

"I think you should be in the picture," said Maggie.

"I'll take it," the prisoner offered.

"Not on your life," I snapped. "I paid good money for this camera."

We got a cop to take the picture for us. Fraser and I stood on either side of Maggie, each with an arm around her shoulders.

"I hope your film gets exposed," the prisoner grumbled.

"You've already been exposed," I quipped.

When all the paperwork was filed, all the statements collected, we headed back to the cabin. In all the excitement, I'd thought my injury was just a glancing blow, but now that the adrenaline had worn off, I was starting to hurt. A lot.

I winced as I took my coat off.

"Are you all right?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah... that jerk got my shoulder with his bat and I'm just now feeling it. Get me a puppy and I'll be fine."

"Did you put that in your statement? How hard did he hit you? Are you sure nothing's broken?"

"I said I'm fine." I sat on the couch. "Seriously, I wanted pictures of those puppies, and I'm going to get them."

"All right," Fraser said, but I saw him give Maggie a look.

Once he was outside, Maggie said, "Will you let me take a look at it?"

I knew they were tag-teaming me, but I couldn't resist her. "Well... Okay. But I'm fine."

I legit had to go all the way down because I had put the thermal shirt my mom got me on first before we went out with the dogsled that afternoon. But I decided to be conservative and only pull my left arm out of the sleeve and not even get my head out of it.

My shoulder was very red and faint bruises were starting to show up around some purple mild abrasions that seemed to follow the weave pattern of my shirt. Maggie made a sympathetically pained face when she saw it. "Do you have your full range of motion?" she asked.

I tried moving my arm around. "Yeah... I can move like normal," I said through gritted teeth.

"But it hurts a lot, doesn't it?"

I was not about to admit that.

"I'll get you some aspirin and tea. Did you try my liniment earlier? That should help a little, too."

"Yeah, I tried it. I was hoping you'd get me the recipe. It's amazeballs."

Her eyebrows shot up, and I realized that was probably not the most polite bit of slang I could introduce her to.

Fraser came in then and pulled two puppies out of his coat, setting them on the couch beside me. He also frowned when he saw my shoulder. "That's probably going to be sore for a while," he said.

 _Yeah, like for the rest of our trip,_ I thought. _Great._

Maggie stepped into the kitchen and started filling her kettle with water. "I'm making tea. Would you get the liniment?"

Fraser nodded and headed for the bathroom.

"I'm really fine," I called to whoever would listen.

"This is no time to be conceited, Ray," Fraser called back.

It took me a minute. Then I laughed. "You just made a joke."

Fraser came out of the bathroom with the liniment. "Yes, I did." He told Maggie, "In the street lingo, 'fine' means 'good-looking.'"

Then she was smiling. She looked... really fine.

Fraser put a gauze pad over the bottle's mouth and tipped it up.

"I can do it myself," I said.

"I'm sure you can," he answered, beginning to dab at the bruising.

I winced. Even the gentle pressure hurt pretty bad. I picked up one of the puppies with my right hand and set it on my lap. "Hey there," I whispered, focusing on the cuteness to distract myself.

The puppy started sucking on my finger.

"Do I taste good? Huh?" I hissed in pain.

"Sorry," Fraser murmured.

I shook my head. "It's okay. It's all good."

Maggie came over and picked up the other puppy, sitting beside me. "You really ought to have said something earlier," she scolded me softly.

"It didn't seem so bad earlier," I said.

"Better safe than sorry."

I smiled a little at her pronunciation of the word "sorry." "Yeah, I know."

"You'd best leave your shirt off to sleep," Fraser advised, capping the bottle. "The less chaffing, the better."

"Okay, but I need it on right now. I'm not showing my mom pictures of me shirtless, holding a puppy. She'll think I wanna be a pinup or something."

Fraser looked a tad scandalized and Maggie blushed slightly—but also looked like she was trying not to laugh.

* * *

 _All I have to say is, I'm super damn proud of that chapter title. Thanks for reading! ~Ray K.  
_


	40. A Brief Visit

_Fraser's point of view again.  
_

* * *

Chapter Forty: A Brief Visit

 _March 1, 2018_

As has been mentioned, Mairead has two part-time jobs. We were recently out delivering something to one workplace when we got a call requesting us to go back to the original location and return to the one at which we had just arrived. We had just an hour to do so, and still had to go up to the third floor of this building to drop off the first item before we started our second task.

As the elevator doors closed, I heard a familiar voice say, "Okay, if this thing isn't ready and waiting for us when we get back, we're taking the stairs."

Ray Vecchio had dropped in on us unexpectedly.

"What are you doing here?" RayK asked.

"Nice to see you, too," said RayV.

RayK smiled. "Nice to see ya. What are you doing here?"

RayV shrugged. "Someone has to take charge."

I'm sure RayK felt we were doing fine without him, but no one said any such thing.

When we returned to the elevator, it was not ready and waiting. RayK pressed the down button, but the elevator was headed up, at someone else's call.

"Right, we're taking the stairs," said RayV.

We hurried down the stairs, the two Rays pushing each other in and out of "front," as we call the station occupying Mairead's point of view. The newest member of our group tends to be in front the most, but RayK was the well-established regular fronter by this time, so Mairead couldn't quite make up her mind which of them to keep there.

"Just don't make us fall," RayK laughed, struggling to measure his steps on the solid, winding staircase.

"Don't make me laugh, and I won't make you fall," RayV responded.

There was some debate over who would drive Mairead's car. RayK was our usual driver, but RayV was set on doing it himself. I think he would have argued to the death, had not all five of us been strongly against his taking the wheel. As RayK pointed out, "We're not cops in this world. If we get pulled over, we'll be in real trouble." So, in the end, he relented. In spite of RayK's relatively conservative driving, we made our deadlines.

RayV left us shortly thereafter, but has dropped in again since, and I'm sure we'll be seeing more of him.

* * *

 _The 90's._

I must say that the puppies showed me a side of Ray I hadn't seen before. He fairly simpered over them. We had suspected that Star was pregnant before we left Canada the last time, and he seemed overjoyed that our theory had been correct.

One thing he failed to mention in his account was that he had a little trouble distinguishing the sex of the pups at first, mistaking a female for a male. I told him that if he compared the two side-by-side, he would never again make that mistake. When he got a look at a male later on, he acknowledged that I was right.

It felt good to take the sled out again, even though it had been only a few weeks since the last time. We made the most of that afternoon, adding a lot of new memories to the collection. I loved that I could share the team with my sister and my friend, and that I had a true family member looking after them for me.

And then the two of them threw me to the wolves, so to speak, after dinner that evening. I realize that there didn't seem to be a single person there who didn't enjoy my singing, but I was still a little put out by Maggie's and Ray's ganging up on me.

By the time we got back to the cabin after stopping at Northmart, I was starting to think about having to leave soon, and how I wished we could spend a little more time with Maggie. She was loading film into her camera, and I asked her to be sure to send me some of the pictures when she got the prints back.

"Of course," she said, smiling. "Would you mind if I took a couple of you now? I want to get the roll started."

"All right."

"Just build up the fire and I'll take some candid shots."

"You like photography?" I asked, crouching by the fireplace.

"Oh... I do, but I haven't devoted much study to it. I'm definitely an amateur."

I heard some of the dogs barking, but then things quieted down. I supposed they had calmed when they recognized Ray.

Maggie took a couple of pictures as I raked the coals into a small pile and began picking out pieces of firewood from the wood box.

Suddenly, the dogs started barking again, some menacing and some frantic in pitch.

"Something's wrong," Maggie said, even as I stood up.

"Yes." I got my coat. "You may need your gun."

She nodded and hurried to the closet where she had hung up her uniform and gun belt. A moment later, we had zipped our coats and crept out the door.

We could hear two voices: one Ray's, and one I didn't recognize right away, due to passage of time. I listened carefully to discern their location between the house and the shed.

I moved my finger in a circle in the air, as if I were stirring a cup of tea with it, and then pointed back toward the far end of the cabin.

Maggie nodded and began moving swiftly and quietly the way I had indicated. I moved in the opposite direction.

The voices became clearer as I moved along the wall. Soon, I could make out words.

"...And when I heard you were back in your hometown..."

"FRASER!" I heard Ray shout.

I quickly looked around the corner, but when I saw that my friend was not imminently to be killed, I ducked back again. There was something familiar about the man threatening him, but he was turned three-quarters away from me, so I didn't recognize him yet.

"I'm not him. I don't even look like him!"

Was it Ray Vecchio this man was after? But who would look for RayV in Canada?

"You couldda had plastic surgery."

 _"In your hometown," he said._ And then I got it.

 _"Really?!"_ Ray exclaimed, sounding particularly agitated.

Now that I knew with whom I was dealing, it was time to make my appearance. "He's right. I believe it's me you're looking for."

The man, whom I now remembered was called Murphy, jabbed at Ray's chest with his baseball bat. Ray stumbled backward to the ground as Murphy turned to look at me. "You're the son of a gun who hauled me in for... _fishing over the limit."_

"That's it?" Ray exclaimed. "Fishing over the limit? You've been waiting four years to jack Fraser up just because of a lousy fishing misdemeanor?!"

I couldn't remember what "jack up" meant, but I didn't think it was the best opportunity for a lesson, so I didn't ask.

"I did time for that!" Murphy told him angrily. "So, yeah. I'm gonna... jack him up. Whatever the hell that means."

"No, you're not," I contradicted.

"Oh, yeah? You're not carryin' a weapon." The man was nothing if not observant.

"That's correct. But my sister is."

As I knew she would, Maggie took her cue. "Put the bat down, sir."

"I heard about you," Murphy told her. "You like to go around threatening people with empty guns."

One of the things I envied about my sister was that she knew how to bluff. When I met her, she was already a master at it. But she didn't need to bluff now. She fired a bullet into the snow a few feet away from him. "Only when I'm off-duty," she said.

He dropped the bat.

* * *

It had turned out to be quite a day, in spite of the slow and peaceful start, culminating in pictures at the local jail, pictures in front of the fireplace with the puppies, pictures of each other. The art of photography is something into which, like Maggie, I had not put much study, but which interested me a good deal. That night I realized for the first time why some families put such an emphasis on being certain to take pictures of every life event, however small. Putting on one's best or favorite clothes for a quick pose before dispersing for the weekend. The hobby of scrap-booking.

My grandmother had taken a picture of me at each of my birthdays and all the Christmases I spent with her and my grandfather, and if I'm honest I was often a bit uncooperative. I cared not a whit about documenting the occasion. I would rather discuss why I didn't receive the present for which I had asked. But years later, those photos of myself became precious to me. Much as I wished I could offer my years of experience to the boy in the photos, forestalling some of the poor decisions he would make, I found I had just as much to learn from him. After all, his poor choices became my superior knowledge. His longing for a lost mother and an absent father had only just begun to develop into a determination in me to keep in constant communication with my sister and to hold dear all the friends who valued me as such.

I looked forward to receiving copies from our "spontaneous photo shoot" as Ray called it. I decided I should acquire a camera of my own to begin documenting the events of my life that might help me later on, and perhaps help my child—should I ever be blessed with one—to know me better. I wished I had more pictures of my own parents. Over the last year and a half, fellow Mounties and friends of my parents had heard of my Chicago apartment's burning and sent me whatever photos they could find that pictured one or both of my parents. Many of them featured other people in the foreground; some were not good quality. But I ended up with a couple dozen instead of the mere handful I'd had before, and I was grateful. They even found a few more of me as a boy.

[Ray, glancing over the previous paragraphs, said: What's with all the nostalgia? Can you boil that down a little? I reread them, revised, edited, and... they ended up longer than before. I'm sorry, Ray.]

I was quite concerned about Ray's injury. Although he made loud protestations that he was fine, I could tell that it gave him a good deal of pain. Maggie and I saw to it that he took aspirin and drank some tea after I'd applied liniment to it for him. He did seem to feel a bit better before we turned in for the night.

Maggie had planned to put the two of us in the living room this time, but she insisted he use her bed again because of his shoulder. He tried to argue, but we wouldn't hear of it, and he finally retired to her room again. I slept on the floor as before, and Maggie made herself comfortable on the couch.

"If we all slept on the floor, we'd be a Scout troop," I told Maggie with a smile.

"I think it takes a little more than camping on a living room floor," she said. "There are initiations and so forth."

"Were you in the Scouts?"

"I wanted to be, but my mother didn't have much time to spare. I was able to try it for a few weeks because a neighbor's girl was in the local troop and they were willing to take me, but eventually they moved away."

"I see."

"But I still have the handbook, and I learned a lot from that. I worked my way through a lot of it and pretended my mother was my troop leader. She even made me some badges when I completed challenges from the book."

"That's wonderful. She seems to have been a very committed mother."

"Yes, she was."

"That reminds me... I owe Ray a badge. A 'Tuck in on the floor, I hurt my back' badge."

Maggie giggled, something I hadn't heard from her since I'd told her of my father's escapade involving the Inuvik Social Club and a lack of clothing. "There must be a story behind that."

"Yes. We were guarding a man who was in the witness protection program. We stayed overnight in an empty apartment and the three of us camped on the floor. The witness had also been in the Scouts, so we were used to roughing it, but Ray... less so."

"So, you promised him a merit badge?"

"He said he wanted one, and I said I'd get it."

"Then I guess you should."

We fell silent for a while and then Maggie said, "Good night, Benton."

"Good night, Maggie," I answered.

The sun was just setting, but the opaque curtains over the windows shut out most of the light, and I didn't find it hard to fall asleep.

* * *

It was light again by the time I got up. Maggie woke as I was building the fire back up. She went to the kitchen and started making eggs and toast for us. It was about the time that the smell of coffee reached its zenith that Ray emerged from hibernation. He moved slowly and stiffly to the bathroom, where he remained for several minutes.

I was about to sit down to my breakfast when Ray opened the bathroom door and called, "Fraser? C'mere for a minute."

I went to the bathroom door. "Yes?"

He was holding a gauze pad and the smell of liniment was strong in the air. "I, uh... I took care of my shoulder, but it hurts like hell when I try to reach my back, and I'm still kinda sore..." He opened his mouth to say more and then closed it.

I pushed the door open further, stepped inside and closed it behind me.

"What'd you close the door for?"

"To give you more privacy," I said, thinking it obvious. I took the bottle from him and began working liniment into his back.

He tensed. "Well... but... Maggie's out there. It's weird."

"We've convened in stalls of public restrooms for privacy before."

"Men's rooms. Public. Aw, forget it."

I could tell that this was another thing like letting one's spoon touch someone else's, and I wasn't going to get a logical agreement out of him. "Do you want to open the door?"

"It doesn't really matter at this point."

"All right. You know, you really should try to practice better posture."

"Save it. I know already."

I decided not to try to talk to him for a bit. After I'd covered his main muscle groups and areas that seemed particularly tense, I asked, "How is that?"

"Better," he said. He half-turned to take the bottle from me and I observed that whatever bruising his ribs had taken from Tanner's knee was no longer visible. "Thanks. You can go."

I felt a bit like a dismissed servant as I exited the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I went back to the kitchen and washed my hands in the sink before sitting down.

"Is he all right?" Maggie asked me.

"Yes. It's just difficult for him to manage everything with his shoulder being so sore."

"You should take that liniment with you. I can make another batch while you're gone."

"Thank you, I'm sure he'd appreciate it. And I think I ought to get the recipe from you, too. There's spruce in it, isn't there?"

"Yes, black spruce, of course." She smiled. "You have wonderful olfactory capability."

"Well... I've had a lot of practice. And of course, I do have difficulty identifying anything I haven't encountered before."

"As would anyone." She put another plate of food next to mine and began eating her own breakfast, which she had set aside earlier.

"Would you mind if we took some of your pemmican with us as well?" I asked.

"Of course not. Help yourself."

"Help yourself to what?" asked Ray, emerging from the bathroom fully clothed.

"Pemmican," Maggie answered.

"Oh. I should have known." He saw the plate waiting for him. "Thanks for breakfast."

"You're quite welcome. I thought you could use a good start to a long day."

"Hey, um... how're we getting the dogs to the airport?" Ray asked.

"It's all taken care of. When Benton outlined your plan for me, I got in touch with an acquaintance who has a large truck. He'll be here soon to transport all of you."

Our visit had flown by. I hoped we would have some time to spare after our return from King William Island.

As we were finishing breakfast, I suddenly remembered something. "Ray, have you called your parents since we got here?"

Ray swore quietly. "No, I forgot all about it. Maggie, do you mind if I make a call to Skokie? I can pay you for it."

"That's fine," she said.

"Thanks. I don't wanna get slapped with roaming fees if I can avoid it. Fraser what time is it in Chicago?"

I looked at my watch. "Just before nine o'clock."

"Good. They'll be up."

* * *

I tried not to listen in on Ray's conversation with his parents, but Maggie didn't seem inclined to talk at the time, and I got the feeling that she _did_ want to listen. I wasn't sure whether or not to admonish her on the subject.

A truck pulled into the yard and the dogs began a chorus of barking.

Ray concluded the call with, "Okay. Our ride is here; I gotta go. Love you too, Mom. Bye."

I glanced up at Maggie and saw an infectious smile on her face. I smiled back. "Help me load up the dogs?"

"Of course." She led the way to the front door.

Outside, the truck's driver had gotten out of the cab and was walking up to meet us. He was of average height and build and had a few grey streaks in his dark hair and mustache. "Good morning, Maggie," he called.

"Good morning, Jeff," she answered. "Thank you for coming."

"No trouble," he answered. He held his hand out to me. "You must be Maggie's brother."

"Yes, sir," I answered. "Benton Fraser."

"Jeff Davis," he answered.

"Ah, like the American Confederate," I observed.

He laughed. "Jeffrey, not Jefferson."

"Are all Canadians history buffs?" Ray asked.

"Jeff, this is Benton's friend and partner, Ray Kowalski," Maggie said.

Davis shook Ray's hand. "Good to meet you."

We started for the shed where we put the dogs into crates and loaded them into the back of the truck. Then Maggie thanked Jeff again and he got into the cab.

"It was good to visit with you," I said.

"It was," she agreed. "It'll be quiet around here without the team. I hope you find what you're looking for."

I clasped her hand and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "We'll be back before you know it." She slapped my arm as I stepped back so Ray could say goodbye.

He hesitated a moment and then said in a complaining tone, "Fraser..."

"I know, I know," I grumbled, turning my back to them. On the one hand, it seemed to me that Ray had no business doing anything that necessitated my giving them privacy, but on the other hand, Maggie was an adult and could certainly handle herself.

"Thanks for everything," I heard Ray say. "See you soon."

"All right. Be careful," she answered.

I looked back at him. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he said, coming to join me.

We got into the cab with Jeff and waved to Maggie. Then we were off.

"How many connecting flights will we have this time?" Ray asked.

"One," I answered. "We're flying to Taloyoak Airport, where we'll pick up Dief on our layover. Then we'll have a non-commercial flight to Gjoa Haven."

"When you say 'non-commercial,' what do you mean?"

"I mean the plane is owned by a private company that schedules flights based strictly on demand."

"That sounds expensive."

"Well, it might be, except that the owner was a friend of my grandparents', and also happens to be a history enthusiast. He was pleased to give us a good rate in the interest of a possible historical discovery."

"That was nice of him," Davis put in.

"Fraser, do you know everyone in Canada?" asked Ray.

"No, Ray. I'm confident that that would be impossible. However, I do look forward to introducing you to an old friend in Nunavut." I looked out the passenger window and watched the scenery go by. Some things had changed since I was last there, but some hadn't. I wondered if Nunavut would be the same.

* * *

 _Thank you kindly for reading. Your comments are welcome, as ever. ~B. Fraser  
_


	41. Adventure Mode

_Ray's POV again. Enjoy.  
_

* * *

Chapter Forty-one: Adventure Mode

Yeah, thanks, Fraser. There was a _reason_ I left out the part about mistaking a girl puppy for a boy puppy. Just gotta tell all the embarrassing parts, don'tcha? Of course, you do. There's honesty, and then there's discretion. I'd have thought the "better part of valor" was all up your alley.

Anyway. I take my aspirin, drink my bark tea and start to feel a little better. We got some great pictures with the puppies. Maggie's fireplace made a nice backdrop. In all the posing, I realized that what Fraser considers a "smile" is more to do with his eyes than his mouth. He's still a freak, but at least there's a pattern to his behavior.

Maggie's a little less reserved. She acts tough and dignified, but if you can surprise her with something cute or funny, her smile's really normal. And pretty.

When it was time to go to bed, I figured I'd be sleeping in the living room with Fraser, but he and Maggie thought I should sleep in her room again because of my shoulder. I like having a bed and everything (and I'm not gonna lie, I liked how it smelled like her), but it seemed like they were making a big fuss—as much as those two "fuss" about anything—over next to nothing. But in the end, it's easier to just humor them. The last thing I wanted was for someone to suggest that a doctor settle the argument.

I could hear them talking again as I was trying to go to sleep. I knew they probably still had a ton to catch up on, since this visit was only the third time they'd been together. I half wished I were sleeping out there with the two of them. And I half wished I at least had the energy to get up and listen at the door. And damn it, Fraser says that if half of me wanted to be in the living room and the other half wanted to listen at the door, then I "couldn't possibly have remained in bed, and yet that's what you did." Fine. A _quarter_ of me wanted to be out there, a quarter wanted to listen at the door, but half wanted to stay in bed. Happy? Geez.

I woke to the smell of coffee the next morning. Thank God for coffee. I was feeling sore again, and my shoulder was throbbing. I mumbled good morning to the others on my way to the bathroom and shut myself in. Once I'd relieved myself, I took a quick shower (who knew when I'd get another chance), dried myself off, got halfway dressed and got out the miracle liniment.

Treating my shoulder went fine, but when it came to trying to reach the tight muscles between my shoulder blades—forget it. I thought about just giving it up. Then I thought about asking Fraser. I wasn't sure what the protocol was. This was something you might ask of a spouse or a girlfriend… but a friend? Even a best friend, I wasn't sure. Then I thought about all the crap Fraser had done to keep me from freezing to death on our last trip and I was like, _This can't be any weirder than that._ At least, I was sure he wouldn't see it that way.

I opened the door a little and called, "Fraser? C'mere for a minute."

A second later, he came to the door and I explained my situation. I still couldn't bring myself to actually ask him for help. I mean, how would I word it? Luckily, he got the message. But then he closed the door, and I'm wondering what the hell Maggie thought was going on in there.

Fraser said he'd wanted to give me more privacy. Yeah… the trouble is, we're both in there having "privacy." Why doesn't he understand these things?! He thinks a powwow in the can at work is the same as holing up in some chick's bathroom while he rubs things into my skin. Oh, god, that is _so_ not the same.

And then he asks me if I wanna open the door. Like… it's too late now, dude. What's done is done. He just doesn't get it. (And I know he's gonna read this before we post it, so I'm just gonna say, love you anyway, man. Now give me a damn Bud Light.)

He told me I needed better posture and I was already annoyed, so I kinda snapped at him. Then he shut up until he'd finished applying the liniment.

I didn't tell him which areas were the worst off, but he found them all. Fraser could have done a lot of things successfully besides being a Mountie, and one was being a masseuse. But I wasn't about to tell him he was doing a good job. No way. I was just trying not to make a single sound, because that stuff kind of stung and burned and froze at the same time, and it makes you squirm, but it feels so good. Not that he'd have found it awkward, but I sure would.

Finally, he stopped. (It was probably less than five minutes in real time.) "How is that?" he asked.

"Better," I said. I took the bottle back and capped it. "Thanks. You can go." _Get out._

He left and I leaned on the door when he was gone. I closed my eyes and finally let myself enjoy the tingle. I felt hella better. I was addicted to that stuff, for sure. I'd better stay friends with Maggie or learn to make the liniment myself. Better yet, get Maggie to put it on for me…

My eyes snapped open. No. I was not letting myself go there. I had to get things straightened out with Franny. With my luck, neither of them would end up wanting me. That was the story of my life.

I washed my hands and put on my layers of shirts. Coffee time.

Maggie had made us all breakfast instead of expecting us to just eat pemmican, but of course that's what they were talking about when I joined them. Then, when she gave me a mug of coffee, she surprised me by also offering a bottle of maple syrup.

"In my coffee?" I asked.

"Sure. It's better for you than sugar, and sweeter, too. Try it."

I did, and she was so right. I've always liked maple flavor, like maple walnut ice cream and maple bacon, but maple coffee is pretty amazeballs.

Then Fraser reminded me I hadn't called my parents. How do I keep forgetting them? I'm a terrible son.

Maggie let me use her phone and my dad answered.

"Hey, Dad," I said, bracing myself. I'd hoped Mom would answer.

"Ray. Finally. Where are you?"

At least he wasn't yelling, and he hadn't called me Stanley. "I'm in Inuvik. It's… it's in the Northwest."

I heard him call to Mom, "Barbara, it's Ray." Then his voice got clearer again. "What have you been up to the last two days?"

"The first day was all traveling. A lotta planes. We're about to go to Nunavut now—that's northeast. Big, islandy territory."

"And that's where you think the dead guy is?"

"Yeah, on King William Island. At least, we hope so. How are things there?"

"Oh, same-same."

"Would you do me a favor and let everyone at the precinct know we got here okay? I don't want to make many long-distance calls if I can help it."

"Sure. I'll do that."

"Thanks."

"Here, your mother wants the phone. Good talking to you, son."

"Yeah. You, too."

"Hello, Ray," Mom said.

"Hi, Mom."

"Are you staying warm enough?"

"Yes. I'm using the stuff you got me. It's great. We stayed with Fraser's sister. We're about to leave for Nunavut any time now. Just waiting on a guy to get here with a truck to move the dogs."

"Oh, that's exciting. Are you getting enough to eat?"

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mom. Maggie made us eggs and toast. I tried maple syrup in my coffee. It's great. It is greatness."

She laughed. "Just don't forget to brush your teeth, especially the sweet one."

"Uh-huh. How are you guys doing?"

"We're fine. Your dad's taking me to the farmer's market today to find something for my window boxes."

"Cool." I heard a vehicle crunching into the yard and the dogs barking. "Okay. Our ride is here; I gotta go."

"All right. Stay safe! We love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

"Goodbye."

"Bye."

We got suited up and went outside where we met Maggie's friend/neighbor/acquaintance (I think she knows most of the people in Inuvik _somehow)_ Jeff Davis, and then we put the dogs in crates to load in the truck.

I crouched by the puppy box and cuddled a couple of the little wrigglers one more time. Then I petted Star and even gave her a kiss on the head. "Sorry you can't come, baby," I told her. "Just take care of these guys and we'll bring Nanouk and the others back to you soon. Good girl."

Fraser was saying goodbye to Maggie when I came out. If I didn't know they were siblings, I'd have thought he definitely looked like a smitten boyfriend the way he tenderly held her hand and kissed her forehead. But then she smacked him on the arm and they were all siblingy again.

I stepped in to say my farewells, and I didn't know what to say. And Fraser standing there wasn't making it any easier. "Fraser…"

"I know, I know," Fraser muttered, turning around.

Maggie grinned at me.

I decided to kiss her cheek like I had back in Chicago (when she came back for the Torelli brothers' trial), and she did the same in return. I took her hand, but didn't try for more than that because of the whole precarious Francesca thing.

"Thanks for everything," I said. "See you soon."

"All right. Be careful," she told me. She didn't just say it because it's one of the things you say—I could tell she really wanted me to be okay.

I gave her hand a little squeeze through our gloves and let go.

"Ready?" Fraser asked.

"As I'll ever be," I said, going to join him.

We squashed into the cab with Jeff—I had to be in the middle, of course, being the skinny one—and waved to Maggie. I thought she looked a little lonely. It was just going to be her, Star and the puppies for a while.

Not long, I hoped. We had a little over a week to find Franklin and get back home.

When we landed at Taloyoak Airport, we loaded the dog crates on this big luggage cart as they were unloaded from the plane. Then we wheeled it into the terminal and met the old friend Fraser had mentioned to me.

It's crazy how Fraser's whole personality seemed to shift when he saw this guy. The other man was clearly at least half Inuit and though it's hard for me to judge, I thought he looked around Fraser's age. He was a little shorter and thinner, but still looked strong. He smiled and the two of them moved together like long-lost brothers.

The other guy took both of Fraser's arms, leaned in, and for a second I thought he was gonna kiss him. Instead he put his face against Fraser's face and kinda sniffed. I'd seen this greeting a few times on our previous trip, so I knew it wasn't necessarily a romantic thing, but it was definitely intimate. These two had a history of close friendship.

"It's been too long, Ben," he said.

"I know," Fraser answered, looking a little guilty.

"You don't write much anymore."

He looked even more guilty. "You're right. I've gotten distracted. Innusiq, I want you to meet my good friend Ray Kowalski."

Innusiq smiled at me and held out his hand to shake.

"Innusiq?" I asked, eyes wide as I absent-mindedly accepted the handshake. _"The_ Innusiq? The kid from your three-man Scout troop?"

Innusiq laughed. "So, he _has_ mentioned me."

"Yes," said Fraser. "This is the same Innusiq. He ended up marrying June."

"No kidding," I said.

"Only because you moved away," Innusiq said with a wink. "Best favor you ever did me."

"Can she boil water yet?" I asked.

He laughed again. Then he leaned a little closer to me and said, "Let's just say, I do most of the cooking."

I grinned.

"They have a daughter now," said Fraser.

"And a son," added Innusiq. "Born last month. That's why June didn't come along, though she wanted to. I brought a picture." He got out his wallet and showed Fraser, then me.

Inuit babies are damn cute. That's all I've got to say.

"What's his name?" asked Fraser.

"We call him Tarkik, for my father. But his birth certificate says Benton."

Fraser did a double-take. "Really?" he asked.

"Someone has to carry on your spirit," Innusiq said. "But we didn't want him to feel strange among his Inuit friends."

Still flabbergasted, Fraser stammered, "I-I'm so honored… Innusiq, it's wonderful."

"Well, of course. He's my son."

"But I'm not dead yet."

"You were for all we knew!"

Fraser looked guilty again, getting another laugh out of his friend.

"Anyway, are we going to stand around here all night, or are we going to pick up Diefenbaker?"

I decided I liked Innusiq. I could see why Fraser did, too. He wasn't loud, but he was confident and easy-going. He seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn't hold a grudge against anyone and would put everything he had into helping a stranger, but still not the kind of guy you could con easily. I wished we had time to visit with his family.

He helped us get the dog crates into a pickup that contained his own dogsled which he was lending to us. Then he drove us down to the quarantine station where we were reunited with Dief, who just about wagged his tail off and had to be told very firmly that jumping on us was not appropriate. I knelt down so he didn't feel the need and he almost licked my ears off. He liked Innusiq right away too, though Fraser said they'd never met before.

Then Innusiq took us to the privately-owned plane that would take us to King William Island.

"Be careful up there," he said. "The Netsilik can be… Well, you know."

Fraser nodded. "We encountered them on our last journey to the island. It was shortly after Ray's first real introduction to Inuit culture."

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my gloves together, trying to warm my hands. "A lot of firsts… We slept in an igloo. Like, a real one. And those people really eat raw seal. Innards and all. And the throat singing… so bizarre." I stopped, worried I might be offending Innusiq, but he just looked really amused.

"Ben was obsessed with throat singing!" he said.

"It wasn't an obsession," Fraser protested.

"He badgered June to teach him, but she didn't want to. Finally, she gave in."

"How did that go?" I asked.

"Not so good, because he kept making her laugh."

I chuckled. "I thought it was kind of a women's thing."

"It is. That's the reason she couldn't stop laughing."

Fraser was starting to look kinda pink. "Well, no one told me it was exclusively for women," he grumbled.

The pilot appeared at the door over the plane's wing. "I've lashed everything down and we're ready to go," he called.

Innusiq gave Fraser a quick hug. _"Tavvauvusi,"_ he said to both of us.

Fraser nodded to him and we climbed into the plane.

"What did he say?" I asked as we took our seats.

"Goodbye," Fraser answered.

"Oh, yeah… I think I remember that from last time. Think those Inuit kids will remember us?"

"I imagine so."

* * *

Our connecting flight was kind of scary. It was close to the size of the plane Fraser and I had stowed away on, but fortunately we were riding inside… with six dog crates.

I was surprised at how calm the dogs stayed through the whole trip. They hadn't been sedated or anything. I guess they just trusted Fraser that much. Looking around at all of them, I relaxed a little. The dogs weren't worried. Fraser wasn't worried. I shouldn't worry.

We did have a little turbulence, but nothing too crazy. Then we were landing in Gjoa Haven. The airport is so small, it looks more like a stable—the planes are like horses tied to a hitching post.

"Please tell me we're staying in the hotel," I said as we unloaded our bags, crates and the dogsled.

"Only as a last resort," Fraser answered, getting the dogs out of their crates one at a time to feed them and let them relieve themselves. "I think we can find less expensive accommodations by making a bargain with a resident or businessman."

"You didn't make arrangements."

"We didn't last time."

"And last time we ended up sleeping in an igloo."

"Yes, we did." He was smiling.

"Stop looking so cheerful about it."

"You know, I was thinking that our journey may have been very much like John Franklin's. Perhaps he, too, could find no shelter near the shore and ended up taking refuge in an igloo."

"His men didn't. Why just him?"

"That's what we have to find out."

"Call me a doubter, but after a hundred and fifty years, I don't think anyone's talking." I tugged my scarf tighter, wishing I'd gotten out my ski mask at the last stop.

Fraser put Dief's harness on and passed me the loop. "Hitch him up, will you?"

"Yeah." I took Dief along the sled's gangline and hitched him in the lead position. "Good boy, Dief," I said, ruffling his ears. "Guess what. Star had puppies. Tell me the truth—any of 'em yours?"

He made a noise somewhere between a whine and Scooby-Doo's "Eroo?"

"All right. I had to ask."

Fraser brought Nanouk over and hitched him to his tugline and then to Dief with a neckline. Our pilot loaded the empty crates back onto the plane. He would bring them back when we were ready to leave again.

There was a lot more snow here than in Inuvik. It wasn't likely to get above freezing, even in the middle of the day. It was late afternoon and still very cold. I couldn't wait to get back inside a building, and I hoped someone would agree to let us stay for a reasonable rate so Fraser wouldn't decide we should camp out. The igloo hadn't been terrible—kind of cozy, actually—but it was dark and kind of a culture shock. You wake up and instead of light streaming through a window, it's this vague, checkered glow coming through the cracks. Kinda blueish. Makes me think of a spaceship or something.

When the dogs were all hitched up, we loaded our bags on the sled and I nestled down into them. Fraser made sure I was tucked in and then signaled the dogs to go.

Some of my annoyance went away as we headed into town. The dogsled sounds were familiar, and it was the two of us on the trail again. Even though I knew we were after something really far-fetched, I felt excited again. Maybe this was it. Maybe this time, we'd find him.

After a little while, I heard Fraser singing to himself, getting a little louder as he went along. I recognized the tune he'd sung down the crevasse that time we thought we might freeze and/or starve to death before anyone found us. He'd sung it several times on our previous trip, too, and I had the chorus memorized, so when he got there I joined in. For all my protesting, I was back in adventure mode.

* * *

 _Fraser complained that I was switching tenses again. Sorry. Hope you liked it anyway. ~Ray K.  
_


	42. Red Tape

_Thanks for your comments on earlier chapters, Steel! I'm glad you're enjoying it!  
_

 _This one's long because we bookend-ed it with segments from yesterday. Hope it's all of interest. ~Ray K._

* * *

Chapter Forty-two: Red Tape

 _March 4, 2018_

Netflix is a wonderful thing. We like to watch stuff while we eat dinner, and sometimes breakfast. So last night we started a movie called _Turner And Hooch_ , starring Tom Hanks and a big, slobbering French mastiff (anyone with a fear and/or hatred of pit bull and mastiff-type dogs _needs_ to see this movie; you will never be the same). We were finishing it over breakfast this morning. Ray Vecchio has been popping in and out the last couple of days, and we've been engaging in some friendly banter (we had to hardcore talk Fraser down this morning, because he was afraid we were _real-_ fighting when we were only play-fighting). Anyway, since it's a cop movie about a guy in a little one-horse town, wanting to go to Sacramento where stuff actually happens, we've unavoidably been making comparisons, both of us wanting to relate to Tom Hanks.

Well, with the other Ray and I vying for "front" position, something weird was bound to happen, and it did when I said, "He's a combination of me and Benny." It slipped out that way unintentionally.

Well, of course RayV blew up because Benny is _his_ pet name for Fraser. Even now, it's hard not to laugh out loud at that. _Pet name._ I let him have it for that. He protested, "Shut up. You know what I mean."

Sure, but that's why it's so funny.

"And he's a combination of _me_ and Benny."

"The glasses!" I said, pointing. Turner, aka Tom Hanks, was sitting in a car with the dog, nerd glasses in place, because he needs them for distance. "If he dances, I win!"

RayV was not ready to accept this "game point" suggestion, but he let it go for the time being. (As it turned out, the character didn't do any dancing in the movie, darn it.) A little later I zoned into a conversation he was having with Fraser and gathered that he wanted to go to work with us.

"I've had a double shot of espresso and three biscotti. I am ready for action," he said.

So, it looks like he's going to work with us. It's gonna be a fun day.

* * *

 _1990's_

We stopped a couple of places that Fraser thought were "likely locations" to give us shelter, but no one seemed interested in letting us camp out in their space, even for decent compensation. I thought I could see an igloo in my future for sure. My fears were reinforced when Fraser suggested we try the local general store.

"If nothing else, they'll have handsaws, machetes and the like."

I knew what that meant: cutting snow blocks.

Fraser anchored the sled outside the store and we went inside. It wasn't super warm in there, but when you're going from fifteen degrees outside to fifty degrees inside, you take what you can get. It felt great to me.

Fraser struck up a conversation with the man behind the counter, and to my great relief, it seemed we wouldn't be snowbound after all. When Fraser revealed that he was a Mountie, the shopkeeper, whose name was Hendricks, said he was willing to put us up himself. He even said the dogs could sleep inside, as long as they stayed in the store room with us and didn't get into anything. All the dogs were very well house-broken, so that was no problem. Hendricks and his wife and son lived upstairs, above the shop. He told us that he kept a gun in case of burglars, but that he had a license for it. I felt a little guilty about the gun in my bag... I decided if I ever planned another trip to Canada, I would at least attempt to get the proper permit to carry it. It's Canada; it can't be that hard.

I was still sleeping on a hard floor, but it wasn't below the freezing point. Fraser got permission to use some empty sacks he found to make the floor a little less uncomfortable. He laid down a thick wool blanket and made a pile of sacks for me first. I think he used more of the available sacks on mine because of my shoulder. He really didn't need to baby me like that, but I decided not to mention it.

There were still a few hours of daylight after we ate some supper, so we went to check out the local RCMP station. There was just one guy there. He was Cpl. James Martin, a Mountie we had met on our last trip to Gjoa Haven.

"I wish you were here in official capacity, Constable," Martin told Fraser. "Constable Jones and I are obliged for the way you helped keep the peace during your last visit. When I heard you were heading back this way, I thought I should see if I could persuade you to stay on."

I took a sudden dislike to Cpl. Martin.

"I'm afraid this visit will be briefer than the last," Fraser said. "Have you heard from the Department of Culture and Heritage?"

Martin nodded. "They said you want to exhume the 'Grave Of the Unknown Inuit Woman.' Is that true?"

"Yes, sir. I have reason to believe it's not the grave of a woman at'all. In fact, it may not even be an Inuit."

"It's an intriguing theory, but what evidence do you have?"

Fraser told Martin about the headstone being at the wrong end of the grave. It sounded pretty thin even to me, but Martin agreed that something was off about it.

"Has permission been granted?" Fraser asked.

"Nunavut is leaving it to the Hamlet Council to bring to a vote. They don't normally convene at such short notice, but if they understand time to be an issue, I think they'll make an exception for you. And the Council is very interested in the Franklin expedition. I recall that was the purpose of your previous visit."

He wasn't missing anything. Probably knew we were thinking Franklin was in the grave.

"Will they, uh... 'convene' tomorrow, you think?" I asked.

"That's _very_ short notice, and it's the weekend, but it's possible. I can tell you who to talk to... in fact, I could make some calls for you if you'd do something for me."

"Certainly," Fraser said, as usual offering assistance without knowing what he was getting into.

"At some point during your stay at Gjoa Haven, I'd appreciate it if you could man the station for a night. My constable and I are run rather ragged with all the complaints we..."

The phone on his desk rang.

"Excuse me," Martin said, going to answer the call. His half of the conversation sounded like he was dealing with someone in distress. When he hung up, he told us, "Someone's reported what sounds like a domestic dispute. I've got to go."

"We'll walk out with you," said Fraser. "And, I believe Detective Kowalski and I can make time to assist you."

 _Thanks for volunteering me, too,_ I thought. I was supposed to be on vacation. Well... vacation/suspension... whatever.

We headed back to the general store. I pulled my ski mask back down over my face once we were outside. It was still light out. It didn't feel like ten o'clock at night. I wondered if the crime rate in Gjoa Haven went up more in the winter, since it was dark so much of the time.

I let my mind wander back to our trip so far, and then I started thinking about Innusiq. I wondered if he had been in my spot once—wondering if Fraser would leave someday and not come back. He seemed OK, even though Fraser _had_ left and not gone back to him for a long time, but then again, he'd had June.

Innusiq had all but said that June had a crush on Fraser. There was something about that name that I remembered, and it hit me all of a sudden. "Benny and Joon!" I exclaimed.

"What?" Fraser asked, pausing to look at me.

"Oh, my gosh... It's a Johnny Depp movie. _Benny and Joon_. They're brother and sister. And Joon pretty much can't boil water. Well, maybe she could, but she and her boyfriend are making grilled cheese sandwiches with an iron at the end of the movie..."

"An iron?"

"You know, like you iron clothes with."

"That's what I thought." He frowned for a second or two, then said, "Hm," and walked on.

I should have known he wouldn't appreciate the reference. I wondered if there was any point in trying to get him to watch the movie when we got back to Chicago. Probably not.

We got back to the general store and took the dogs out again before getting ready for bed. It was around eleven o'clock, but I wasn't very sleepy yet.

"What time we getting up?" I asked, zipping myself into my sleeping bag.

"Seven, I think."

"Mm... okay, but we'd better find some coffee somewhere. How come I'm not getting sleepy yet?"

"It's only ten o'clock in Inuvik."

I groaned. My internal clock had just started adjusting to time in Maggie's area, and then we'd gone back a time zone. "This is not cool."

"It could be worse."

"Things can usually be worse."

Once Fraser and I were both settled, Dief came over and sandwiched himself between us. He put his head by Fraser's shoulder and I scooted closer so I could get some warmth from him. Fraser put out his lantern.

"Good night, guys," I said.

"Good night," Fraser answered.

I fell asleep petting the soft fur on Dief's chest. Sometime during the night, Nanouk came over and weaseled his way into my sleeping bag. It was cramped, but I stayed toasty warm.

* * *

In the morning Mrs. Hendricks, the shopkeeper's wife, surprised us with oatmeal and coffee. I can take oatmeal or leave it, but in such a cold climate I wasn't about to turn it down. Fraser offered to pay them extra for feeding us, but she said it was on the house. This was five-star service compared to the way we'd lived on our first trip.

Once we finished eating, we took the dogsled across town to the Community Hall, where we learned that the Hamlet Council had been expecting us.

"Given the nature of your visit and how far you've come on such little promise of results," someone-or-other official told us, "Corporal Martin advised us to do our utmost to accommodate your request. I can schedule the Council to convene this afternoon, if that suits you."

"The sooner, the better," I told her.

"Yes. I'm afraid our time is quite limited," Fraser added.

"In that case, we shall plan on seeing you back here at one o'clock. Where may I reach you if plans change?"

Fraser told her she could reach us through the general store and we left.

"So... what do we do for four hours or so?" I asked.

"Fancy a little tourism?"

I smiled a little. "Should I bring a shovel?"

"No, not yet."

"Stakeout?"

"More like canvasing."

"Got it. You do the talking."

"Indubitably."

I blinked. "What?"

"Without a doubt."

"Right."

* * *

We headed out northwest of the community toward the more primitive dwellings of the Netsilik Inuit. Most of them had conventional homes, but the ones outside of town were all snow, for the benefit of tourists. Tourism is pretty much the only industry they have—showing foreigners how igloos are built; selling them soapstone and bone carvings, handmade jewelry, and cured caribou hides; and offering them raw seal meat and dogsled rides. Some of them hold jobs in the community too, but most of those live in Gjoa Haven. The few that still live like nomads outside the town are the real McCoy. The last "authentic Eskimos." Caribou-tracking, seal-hunting, sinew-chewing, throat-singing, drum-dancing Inuit. And I say that with respect.

I won't bother telling all the stuff people tried to get us to buy, or try to spell the Inuit words in conversations between Fraser and the locals. Suffice it to say, we looked at a lot of stuff and talked to a lot of people. Some of the kids did remember us from last time, and they fairly hung off us and all wanted to pet and hug Dief and feed him little bits of... well, I didn't ask what it was.

Then our little train of people broke up as Fraser and I headed toward the unnamed grave attraction, which was by itself on the side of the village closest to Gjoa Haven. I remembered the first time we'd seen it.

 _Fraser led the way at first, but then I started absent-mindedly walking on toward the grave without him._

 _"Ray._ Ray _. Ray!"_

 _I stopped and looked back at him. He was standing like he was going to walk on by the grave without going up to it. "What?" I asked, confused._

 _"We have to walk by the grave before approaching it. Remember?" We had been told about this custom of passing by the grave on our first visit when we arrived at the Inuit camp, but I had completely forgotten._

 _"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I followed him past the grave a ways, and then we walked back to it. "Nice pile of rocks," I commented._

 _"It's a cairn. It keeps predators from getting to the body."_

 _"Gross."_

 _"Well, they can't bury them deep; the permafrost won't allow that."_

 _"It's still gross."_

"Do we have to walk past it this time?" I asked Fraser.

"No. That's only the first time you visit," he answered.

"Okay. Just checking."

It looked the same as it had before, though my memory of it had changed a little. I'd made it look bigger in my mind, and more... I dunno. More like a white man was buried there, rather than an Inuit woman.

"Think he's in there?"

Fraser knelt near the headstone and looked at it—not like he was looking for anything in particular; just looking. "I don't know. I hope so... but we can't know yet."

I heard someone coming toward us. Mukluks make this quiet "Shh- _squeak"_ in soft snow. Not as squeaky as our boots, though. It was the village's shaman, whose name I had forgotten.

"You came back," the shaman said.

Fraser nodded to him. "I'm afraid we didn't get the answers we sought last time."

"You still seek the grave of the white chief."

I knew, because Fraser had clued me in on our last visit, that the shaman purposely talked like a mysterious, primitive, uneducated person in order to keep up his mystique for the tourists.

"We do," Fraser said.

I looked at the plaque that had been erected by the grave (with a slotted, padlocked box underneath for donations) and re-read the part that was in English: Here lies an Inuit woman, name forgotten in time.

"You meet with white elders to make a great choice."

I kind of wished he would just cut the crap already. It was funny the first time around, but now I felt like he was hiding something.

"We do plan to speak to the Hamlet Council," Fraser confirmed, not seeming bothered by the Big Chief Crazy Horse act. "Depending on the outcome, we may see you again later."

"Come again anyway. If they have nothing for you, Tulugaak may."

Good night, no wonder I couldn't remember his name. See, Ray is simple. Doesn't take people a week to learn it.

"You have something to tell us?"

"Come again later."

Tulugaak didn't seem like he was going to give us any hints about what he might be able to tell us "later," and I thought he might just be yanking our chains for dramatic effect. But Fraser seemed ready to take him seriously.

"We certainly intend to," Fraser said.

There was an awkward silence and then Fraser tilted his head back the way we'd come. I followed him back to igloo-central where we'd left the dogsled.

"You don't think he's on the level, do you?" I asked.

"If anyone knows the history of this settlement, it will be the _angakkuq,"_ Fraser answered.

I supposed that was the Inuit word for shaman. If he'd told me that before, I'd forgotten it. "Okay, but maybe no one does. Maybe he's just trying to scam us."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know—maybe money?" I suggested, thinking it was likely and obvious.

"Perhaps. But I think we should take any lead seriously. And if talking with him precipitates his cooperation in exhuming the grave, it would behoove us to garner his trust."

I got the gist of that, but he was throwing out too many expensive words at once. "Say what?"

"Precipitate? That means cause, or lead to."

"And... remind me what behoove means."

"In this case, serve our purpose."

"And..."

"Garner means to gather. Collect."

"So, we should build trust with this guy by chatting with him so he'll cooperate with the dig proposal."

"Precisely."

"God, why couldn't you just say that?"

"Well, I did."

* * *

We made lunch on the electric stove at the back of the general store. People didn't find it too odd to see us frying up quesadillas just off the sales floor while they shopped. Things were very informal in that town.

Once we got done eating, we went back to the Community Hall, where the Council was gathering. I don't know if you've ever been to a "town meeting" but it felt kinda like that, but with less people. The chairperson summed up what we were doing there, and then Fraser stood up and gave them a little more detail.

As expected, they were skeptical. They seemed to think it wasn't worth upsetting people by disturbing the grave just on the slim chance of making a historical discovery.

"What does Detective Kowalski have to say about your proposal?" one council member asked.

I hadn't expected to say anything after Fraser introduced me, so I felt pretty unprepared standing up to talk to them. The councilmen were a mix of ethnicity, gender and age. I figure some of them thought Fraser and I were a couple of young upstarts who didn't know what we were talking about. And honestly, I barely did. I may not hold very strongly to any faith, but I knew this area was predominantly Christian, even the majority of the Inuit populace, so I decided to beg off in a strategic way, using my memory of Sunday school lessons. "I'm afraid, like Moses, I'm not very good at speeches," I said. "But Constable Fraser and I see this thing the same way, and I trust him to speak for both of us."

That seemed to be good enough. Attention was back on Fraser pretty quick after I sat down.

"I understand that the remains of the dead should be treated with respect," Fraser picked up where he'd left off. "And I would never suggest invading anyone's final resting place without due course. The facts as I see them are these: The Grave Of the Unknown Inuit Woman either does not contain a woman, or was not created by the Inuit people. If it were created by the Inuit people, they would have laid out a woman facing south. If it does contain a woman, it follows that it cannot have been created by the Inuit. In short, the grave is something of a fraud either way. Either the story of how the woman came to be buried there is false, or the story of the body's identity is false. What you fine ladies and gentlemen must decide is: Should we let the story lie? Or should we learn the truth of the matter?"

When he put it like that, I thought a lot more of our chances. The councilmen seemed to be taking him very seriously, too.

After letting the silence hang there for dramatic effect, Fraser said, "Thank you for hearing us today." Then he sat beside me.

I wanted to tell him I thought he'd done great, but I thought it would kill the mood if I whispered something to him right then, so I just gave him a quick pat on the knee, like _Good job, pal._

The chairperson got up again. "Council members, I believe it is time to put the matter to a vote. Do we sanction the Fraser/Kowalski project? Those in favor, please signify by show of hands."

Not everyone was in favor, but no one looked ticked off, at least. The chairperson counted the raised hands and I held my breath.

"We have a majority."

I grinned at Fraser.

"Gentlemen, you have our official permission to pursue exhumation of the grave. However, you must also gain permission of the tribal elder and oversee the exhumation at your own cost."

That made things feel a little further from our reach again, but Fraser seemed optimistic.

"Thank you kindly," he said. "We're planning to meet with Tulugaak today."

 _Oh, great._ I was starting to think that the "permission of the tribal elder" and our "own cost" were going to end up being one and the same. What would the heap big chief want in exchange for permission to wreck one of his most profitable tourist attractions?

* * *

 _March 4, 2018_

RayV did come to work with us, and this time we even let him drive, since he assured us "I'll be conservative." He did fine.

On the way, we got stuck behind someone going slow. When I started to complain, Ray said we should be nice to them because they had the same make of car that Mairead did, and that gave us a sort of kinship.

Looking at their license plate, I said, "They're from Mississippi."

"Yeah, you're right," he said. "Move it, slowpokes!"

I laughed and Fraser made a sound of protest.

I challenged Ray to play the license plate game we made up: when you see a plate that starts with three letters, you try to make a word out of those three letters. They have to all be in the word, in order, but not necessarily consecutively. So, I pointed out a plate that started with "HVG" and Ray said "Having." I looked expectantly at Fraser, because he usually one-ups me at this game, and I was sure he could do the same to Ray.

"Havering," Fraser said.

"Havering? What the hell is that?" Ray asked.

"It's prattling on. Blithering."

"What language is that?"

"British."

I don't have Fraser's clear singing voice, but I couldn't help bursting into song. "When I haver, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you!"

Then Ray realized he knew that song himself and started in on the chorus as he drove us into the parking lot. I bet we'll alternately belt out "Da-da-DA-da!" from time to time from now on.

At the job we were doing today, we deal with a wide variety of people. We took turns in front a lot. At one point, Ray started out trying to help a black lady and then told me on our plane, so no one else could hear, "I can't understand what she's saying."

"I got this," I said. I took front and helped the lady. This is what we're here for—dividing life into manageable shifts so Mairead doesn't get overwhelmed by it. I've got an ear for this ethnicity and Ray doesn't. Just like he's worlds ahead of me with Italian people.

Later on, I spotted that the couple Ray was helping were Polish. I shoved him out of front and took over. I knowingly asked if they were Polish and we talked about their accent and stuff. When they were ready to go I told them, _"dziękuję."_ It means "thank you."

"You speak Polish?" the man asked excitedly.

"I just know one word," I admitted.

He laughed. He borrowed a pen for a little bit and when he brought it back to our desk he said "I'm returning your pen. Don't call the police." I can't tell you how much I wanted to whip out my badge and tell him, "I am the police."

A bit later, a supervisor asked to see Mairead when we were done with the project we were currently working on. Me being kind of an insecure person, I asked the others, "Are we in trouble?"

"We're not getting fired," Eren said confidently, because that supervisor "doesn't do the firing."

"Okay, but did we screw something up?"

Fraser said he didn't think so, but that if we did it would work out.

We finished our project and went in search of the supervisor. I voiced my worry to another coworker on our way by, and she assured us, "Oh, no." We weren't in trouble. That was a relief, but I was still nervous. Mairead needs both her jobs, or we sure as hell wouldn't hang onto them both.

"You do it," I told Fraser, meaning he should be in front when we learned what the heck was going on.

He took front and stood at attention by the supervisor's desk while she finished helping some people. I think they noticed Mairead's military-like stance because they gave us this kind of awkward smile. They concluded a business transaction and paid with several hundred-dollar bills.

"Ever seen that much money up close?" I said on our plane.

"Only in evidence bags," Ray joked back, also on our plane.

After all that... it turned out that she had just wanted us to take an extra shift that week. Like, gee, couldn't you at least have said, "Come see me about scheduling" or something? All that pointless worry...

Levi claims he wasn't worried. Well, good for you, Captain.

At one point, Ray had to say something over the intercom, and when he got done I told him, "Your accent came through a little."

"I can't help it," he said. "When I want it to, it doesn't, when I don't want it to, it does..."

It's all part of adjusting to being an alter. The more he fronts, the more easily Mairead will be able to do his voice, and vice versa. Not that I want him to front much. I like being in front for the most part. But some parts definitely not; that's for another time, though.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, and I hope you were amused by our day at work. (Yes, it was fairly typical!) ~Ray K.  
_


	43. Snow And Fire

_Hold on for some action here. I didn't leave you with a cliff-hanger, though. (Part of the reason this is a longer chapter, though I did say they would be getting longer anyway.)  
_

* * *

Chapter Forty-three: Snow And Fire

Tulugaak welcomed us into his igloo about an hour after our meeting with the Hamlet Council ended. He had a wood fire burning in the middle of the floor. I knew that was kind of a luxury, since wood was an imported resource. Most of the igloo-dwellers still used their seal oil lamps for heat. You wouldn't think it of a home with snow for walls, but an igloo can stay pretty warm. You just have to make sure you have a good chimney, or your ceiling will start to melt. Fraser explained all this stuff to me on our last trip to the island.

"You are hungry?" Tulugaak suggested when we had all sat down around his fire.

I could have eaten, but I had a hunch we'd be offered raw seal if we said yes.

"No, thank you," Fraser said. "It's kind of you to ask."

I looked around at Tulugaak's walls. I could see that they were shored up with thin pieces of wood like tent poles. I wondered if the average tourist would consider that cheating. I guessed that Tulugaak liked to keep his igloo in the same spot and used the wooden skeleton to help keep it the same shape and size as before, whenever he needed to make repairs. Hanging from the wooden structure and from pegs stuck right into the snow walls, there were lots of odds and ends: snowshoes, a leather bag, a bow and arrows, the hide of some white animal that I thought was probably an arctic fox, and other stuff that would please a touristy eye.

"Tea, perhaps?" Tulugaak tried again.

"Yes, thank you," Fraser said this time.

Tulugaak checked a copper kettle hanging over the fire. The normalness of the kettle seemed kind of un-Eskimo to me, but I didn't say anything. [Sorry, _normality,_ not "normalness." Thanks, Fraser.] "You have received the answer you desired?" he asked, prodding at the fire with a stick.

"From the Council?" asked Fraser. "Yes, we have their blessing. Now, we would like to get yours."

Tulugaak didn't answer for a minute or two, and I was getting really antsy. I'm not good at waiting. Finally, he said, "Long ago, men came to this island seeking lost travelers. Another man named Rae led them. Called Aglooka, because he was long in leg, like you," he said, pointing at me.

I was surprised and confused by that, and too distracted to point out that Fraser was slightly taller than me. I looked to him for clarification.

"That was R-A-E, and it was a surname," Fraser told Tulugaak. "This is R-A-Y, and it's his given name. They're of no relation."

"All things are connected," Tulugaak contradicted him.

"Fraser, who's he talking about?" I asked.

"Doctor John Rae," Fraser said. "He continued the search for the Northwest Passage after Franklin's party disappeared, and he was also the one to bring conclusive evidence of the fate of Franklin and his men back to England. The Inuit traded many items to him which had belonged to Franklin and his men, and they told him where many of their corpses lay, but Franklin was not found among them."

I felt kind of eerie as Fraser explained this to me. It seemed really queer that the guy who found out where Franklin's journey ended, and about the cannibalism and everything, had a similar name to mine. "Well... what about him?" I asked Tulugaak. "He was here, what—a hundred-fifty years ago? Maybe your great-great grandfather met him, but I'm sure you're not old enough to remember him being here."

"All things can be remembered," the shaman said. "A father tells his son, and the son tells his son."

"Oral tradition is an integral part of Inuit culture," said Fraser. "They give their children the names of dead loved ones to keep the name in use so the loved one's spirit will stay with them. They retell the same stories so memories won't be lost. They sing the same songs over and over to keep their traditions alive. To Tulugaak, especially with the perspective of a shaman, it is as if he remembers meeting with John Rae, himself."

This was getting a little too weird for me. I decided to just keep quiet and not ask any more questions if I could help it.

"Aglooka searched for white chief Franklin. Found many of his men," Tulugaak said importantly. "Franklin, he did not find."

 _That's what Fraser just said a second ago,_ I thought, but managed not to say it out loud.

"Aglooka did not know the place to look."

"And what place was that?" Fraser asked.

"Follow the North Star..."

"North?" Fraser asked, frowning. "But after wintering off the coast, Franklin's party turned south. They were headed for Back River on the mainland."

"When the leader falls, the herd scatters where it may." Tulugaak poured hot water over tea in tin cups and handed one to each of us.

"The hell does that mean?" I couldn't stop myself from asking as I took my cup.

"He's saying that Franklin was dead already when the men started for the mainland. And from what I've read, that's true. But why would he be buried to the north when harsher conditions would mean a more difficult burial? It makes just as much sense to carry him south with them."

 _They probably did. He's just making up crap to keep us from ruining the grave,_ I thought, but managed to stay silent again. I took a sip of the hot tea, almost scalding myself.

"How far north?"

"Two hours on foot. North by northwest," Tulugaak answered. I thought he sounded a lot less chief-like, giving specific compass directions like that.

"And by dogsled?"

"You must not take the dogs—especially not the white one." He leaned closer to Fraser, staring into his eyes. "Amaguq will not tread there, where Anguta is master."

I was really struggling not to burst in with more questions.

"Diefenbaker does not fear Anguta," Fraser told Tulugaak, staring right back.

Tulugaak pointed a finger at Fraser with a dark, threatening expression. "Those who do not fear death are fools. Your Diefenbaker knows not to tread where Amaguq will not. No dogs. You wish to go, I will give snowshoes in friendship. But the dogs, you must leave."

The two of them kept up their stare-down for a minute. Then Fraser said, "Very well. When can we go?"

"Not today. _Tlapinti_ is coming."

Fraser leaned forward to look up Tulugaak's chimney. "Yes, you are probably right about that. Tomorrow, then?"

Tulugaak nodded once.

Fraser drank some of his tea. "Tulugaak, if we don't find what we seek two hours north by northwest, will you allow us to open the grave of the unnamed woman?"

A tense moment of silence passed before the shaman said, "If you do not, I will listen to your request when you return."

"Very well. Thank you kindly for your time and hospitality." He finished his tea and passed the cup back to our host.

I'd barely touched my tea, but I didn't feel like making an effort. I gave my cup back mostly full.

* * *

"Okay, what the hell was that about?" I asked, as soon as we had the dogsled away from the cluster of igloos.

"What was what about?"

"This 'two hours by snowshoe' thing? And why did he say we couldn't go today?"

"I don't know what we'll find, but we can't go today because there's a snowstorm coming. See those clouds?"

The sky was getting dark with heavy-looking gray clouds.

"Okay, I'll give you that. But why are we going on some wild goose chase instead of doing what we came here to do?"

"For two reasons. First, because humoring Tulugaak will make him more likely to cooperate with us. Second, because we won't know if it's a wild goose chase until we investigate."

"Sure, we will. 'Two hours' isn't exactly an precise measure of distance, you know. Is that two hours that we, specifically, can go on snowshoes, or that _he_ can?"

"We'll just head north by northwest until we find it."

"Find what?"

"Whatever he's sending us to find, be it a grave or some other clue, or whatever it may be."

"Can't you see that he's snowing us?"

"He's a capable shaman, but even I doubt that he has control of the weather."

"We've been over this, Fraser. Snowing is pulling the wool over our eyes, or yours, anyway."

"You think he's lying?"

 _"Yes,"_ I said, glad Fraser was _finally_ getting my drift.

"Why would he do that?"

"He's clearly got someone feeding him information on every move we make. He must have heard we're low on time and wants to stall us with a distraction."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't want us spoiling his tourist trap! Trust me, he may be an endearing old medicine man with great stage presence on the outside, but deep down, all he cares about is dead presidents."

"Oh, Ray! Tulugaak may not be an example of honesty, but you can't really think he's in some conspiracy to assassinate American presidents."

"Money, Fraser! 'Dead presidents' is money."

"Oh. Oh, I see."

Tulugaak was right about the snow—it was starting to fall before we got back to the general store.

"What was that stuff about not taking the dogs?" I asked, climbing off the sled and going to help Fraser unharness everyone.

"Amaguq is the wolf god. He is sometimes benevolent, but also a trickster. Not to be confused with Amarok, who preys on lone travelers and winnows out sick caribou. Anywhere Amaguq fears to tread is someplace flesh-and-blood wolves would want to avoid as well. Anguta is the Inuit's equivalent of the Grim Reaper. He gathers dead souls to his realm and keeps them there in a year-long sleep. Tulugaak said the place he is sending us is Anguta's territory."

"Great. So, the Inuit Grimm Reaper is guarding this place Tulugaak's sending us to, and we can't even take our wolf for protection. I like this less and less the more you explain it."

"Regardless of our next move, we can't make it in the face of a blizzard. I suggest we take some repose and then offer our services to Corporal Martin after dinner."

"Fine," I said. I wasn't happy with anything at the moment, but there was no point in trying to change Fraser's mind.

* * *

"I'd hoped all the heavy snowfall was behind us," Cpl. Martin said as he got ready to hand the station over to us for the night. "The caribou are all over the island. By tomorrow, they'll have to dig to find anything to graze on, even near the coast."

"Perhaps there will be warmer weather soon," Fraser said.

"Hey, are you leaving us with transportation?" I asked. "We didn't want to leave the dogs outside all night if we didn't have to, so we came on foot..."

"I wouldn't have minded if you'd kept them in the empty cell," Martin said. "But I'm leaving a snowmobile for you. If you need anything, you can call me at any hour. This is my town, and I should know if anything serious happens. If you need backup, I want you to call me first and then alternate between me and Constable Jones."

"Understood," said Fraser.

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much we appreciate the relief. Jones and I are the only ones stationed here on a permanent basis, and it's rare for us to get even temporary support."

I imagined trying to keep law and order in even a small town with just one other guy. That would suck. This was the wild west of Canada. A lone sheriff and his deputy. "Well, just try not to worry about anything, get some shut-eye, and we'll call you if we need you," I told him.

He shook hands with both of us and left in his pickup truck.

"So, you think the town will go to pieces overnight?" I asked, looking out the window at the gray surroundings, snow already covering everything in a thin layer.

"I certainly hope not," said Fraser.

I crossed the room and looked through to the cell block—if you could call it that. There were only three cells, two of them occupied.

One of the prisoners spotted me. "Hey, who are you?" he asked.

The second prisoner sat up on his cot and looked at me, too.

For a split second, I almost started explaining the situation to them. Then I changed my mind. "Who am I?" I repeated, putting on a tough-guy voice. I swaggered through the doorway and took measured steps along the cells until I was across from the guy who'd spoken. Then I pivoted and fixed him with a hard stare. "Name's Kowalski. I was here over two months ago and I saw the shape o' this sorry town. I said to myself, this is a town gone to the dogs, no place fit for a decent man to raise a family. Corporal Martin sent Constable Fraser all the way to the states to track me down and bring me back to whip this town into shape, and I intend to do it. So, that's who I am: Detective Raymond Kowalski, Chicago PD. The guy who's gonna kick your ass if you ever step out o' line again!"

The man wasn't exactly shaking in his boots, but he did look a little intimidated. "Geez, all I'm in for is a little drinking," he said.

I tilted my head. "That's it?"

"Yeah," piped up the second guy, "and I'm in for selling him the liquor."

I'd forgotten that Gjoa Haven was a "dry" town. No alcoholic beverages allowed, not even beer. Forget the wild west—this was Mayberry. "Well," I said, recovering my McQueen persona, "You'd best see to it you don't try any more o' that." I turned and swaggered out again before they could ask me anything else.

When I stepped back out into the office, Fraser was staring at me from behind the desk. "Ray," he said pointedly.

I wondered how much he'd heard. "What?" I asked.

"Was that really necessary?" All of it, apparently.

"Oh, come on," I said, going over to the desk and sitting on the edge of it. "This place has a terrible crime rate. A little fear of the law is good for them."

"An example of honesty, integrity and goodwill might just be as useful."

"Well... that's what you're here for."

* * *

We took turns manning the desk and resting or sleeping in the empty cell. We got a call from a woman who thought she'd been followed home. Some guy was parked outside her place, just sitting there. Turned out he was waiting for someone else and that person showed up while I was there, corroborating his story pretty darned well. Then Fraser went out to investigate a reported disturbance that turned out to be some teenagers horsing around in the snow.

I thought we were going to get through the night without any major crimes to deal with, but in the early hours of the morning, when it was actually _dark,_ Fraser woke me up in the extra cell.

"The general store is on fire," he said. "The fire department has already been alerted, and I've called Corporal Martin. He said he would send Constable Jones here and we should get to the store right away. We're closer than anyone else."

In my sleepiness, it took me a few seconds to process what he was saying. Then I was scrambling up and pulling my boots on. "Oh, god... the dogs." I hate fire. Campfires are OK. They're fun, even. And candles are pretty and romantic. But house fires scare the crap out of me. I think it's more the smoke than the flames; smoke inhalation is a lot like drowning. But getting burnt is no fun either. I hate the thought of being trapped, and thinking of Dief and the sled dogs trapped in a burning building was freaking me out.

"Come on," Fraser said.

He only stopped to lock the front door behind us before we climbed on the snowmobile. He let me drive—he could handle it okay, but I had slightly more experience on snowmobiles than he had. My grandfather had owned one for a few years and my dad taught me to operate it.

I rode the throttle hard, knowing that fresh, powdery snow was the trickiest surface to ride on—and fresh snow was what we had. It wasn't coming down anymore, but there was a good layer of at least a couple inches, and hardly a track to be seen anywhere. Whenever I spotted tracks I followed them, trying to get whatever traction I could, but it wasn't much help.

When I saw a turn coming up, I turned my head and shouted to Fraser, "Stay with me!" I didn't like to take turns on a surface like this, even when I rode alone. Having Fraser aboard complicated things. We had to lean into the turn together and keep our balance just right to keep from rolling or drifting.

Just before we hit the turn, I put my weight on my feet and leaned in gradually. Fraser kept a snug grip on me and came along. He followed my lead like a dance partner, and we made the turn as gracefully as was possible under the circumstances. In spite of being worried as hell for the shopkeeper, his family and the dogs, I couldn't stop the whoop that jumped up from my stomach and out of my mouth. Finally, something we did perfectly the first try, with no planning or practicing... or arguing.

I could smell smoke before the store came in sight. The fire wasn't bright enough from the outside to tell how big it was yet, but a streetlight showed the smoke rolling out from under the front door and through cracks around the windows. An upstairs window was lit, but I couldn't see anyone inside. I cut the snowmobile's engine after pulling up a little ways from the building.

Only a couple of people were outside—it was very cold out, and even though bad news travels fast, it was the middle of the night and most of the town was asleep. Fraser called to the few spectators to keep a safe distance as we ran up to the front door.

Fraser took off a glove and spread his hand on the door. After a moment, he put his glove back on and tried the latch. As expected, it was locked. He nodded to me and we both took a step back before kicking the door together.

It banged open and we heard the fire roar as it jumped up ahead of us, sucking in the fresh oxygen. It seemed strongest at the back, near the store room where the dogs were barking their heads off, but it had also surrounded the bottom of the stairs and started eating its way up the walls. There was a window about a third of the way up the stairs, and Hendricks was struggling to open it, his wife and son just visible through the smoke, standing on the higher stairs behind him.

I suddenly remembered something Fraser had told me in his apartment... something about opening windows.

 _"Two openings will encourage steady airflow... you won't get a strong breeze unless you open two of them."_

Our host had unlatched the window and was about to throw it open. I turned around, grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut, leaning on it to keep it closed. I looked up again and saw that the shopkeeper was lifting his son out the window.

"Get the dogs!" I shouted to Fraser. Sure, there was a huge wall of fire between us and them, but if anyone could get them out, it was my best friend. And I hate to admit it, but I was already closer to that fire than I wanted to be.

Fraser gave me another quick nod before navigating the shop's merchandise and vaulting over the counter at the back to avoid the worst of the flames. I heard him call Nanouk. After that, I couldn't hear anything but crackling wood. Couldn't see much through the smoke and tears starting to stream out of my stinging eyes. I wiped my eyes on my coat sleeve and kept them narrowed to slits, but it didn't help. I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my ski mask to filter out more smoke, but every breath still burned my throat. I had to fight to keep myself leaning on that door. We couldn't get to the window to shut it. It was up to me.

Finally, I could hear a sound: a siren outside. I guessed that meant the fire truck had arrived. If they used fire trucks. I'd never thought about it. I felt someone push on the door, and I threw my full weight against it.

"Don't open the door!" I shouted, and then had a coughing fit. I swallowed hard and sucked in another breath. "There's an open window at the side," I choked as loudly as I could. "The draft will accelerate the fire and kill my partner!" I coughed again. Had they heard me? The fire was eating its way across the room now... I couldn't see Fraser or much of anything else.

I wiped my eyes again and the next thing I saw was like something out of a Disney movie: Led by Diefenbaker, Nanouk and the other dogs came jumping over the checkout counter. Dief didn't hesitate a second before jumping the line of fire separating them from the untouched front of the store, and the others followed him. Fraser rolled over the counter as Dief turned back to bark encouragement to him.

Still a couple strides from me, Fraser shouted, "Go!"

I yanked the door open and we all spilled out into the snowy yard as the fire roared again, eating up the stream of air crossing the sales floor.

Then hands were grabbing my arms, pulling me further from the building, helping me to my feet. Someone took me over to the house next door and sat me on the steps. A couple voices were asking if I was all right, and what I'm pretty sure was a canine tongue kept swiping at my face.

"I'm okay," I croaked, but hearing my own voice, I knew the smoke inhalation had done a number on me. I looked around for Fraser. My eyes were still blurry and it took me a minute to spot him. He was sitting at the back of an ambulance, legs dangling out of it, and it looked like he was getting the same treatment as me. Then someone was right in front of me, blocking my view, pulling up my ski mask and putting an oxygen mask in its place.

A furry head settled in my lap and I pulled off a glove to pet it. I could tell just by the feel of him that it was Dief. "Hey, buddy," I whispered, which was stupid for two reasons. First, he couldn't hear me, and between the dark and the oxygen mask he couldn't read my lips, either. Second, I shouldn't be talking at all, after what my throat had just been through. I wondered if Fraser was worse off than I was.

* * *

 _Definitely one of the scariest things we've been through together. But just wait... our harrowing experiences aren't over yet._

 _I had to get Fraser to help me remember some of the stuff Tulugaak said, in case you're wondering. I don't have much of a head for Inuktitut. Let me know what you think so far. ~Ray K.  
_


	44. Desperate Times

_March 11, 2018: Ray was ecstatic to see that a Canadian finally viewed his story. I must say, I was rather gratified as well. My compatriot, should you make it this far, I would like to get a comment from you. ~B. Fraser  
_

* * *

Chapter Forty-four: Desperate Times

I was relieved that Ray did considerably less complaining during the next stage of our journey. I looked forward to seeing Innusiq and possibly June and their daughter. I was a little nervous because I hadn't been keeping in touch with them as I ought, and because it had been years since I saw them in person. But the moment I saw Innusiq and the look in his eye, I knew all was well.

He greeted me with a _kunik,_ something he had bestowed upon me only once before, when I moved from Nunavut back to Inuvik with my grandparents. We had borne the parting bravely while still within sight of one another (though June was tearful throughout), but I confess that as soon as I was in the moving van, I succumbed to tears, myself. Innusiq had been the closest thing I had to a brother, and he was dear to me.

Hearing his voice, albeit deeper than I remembered, was like coming home. "It's been too long, Ben."

"I know," I said, filled with genuine regret.

"You don't write much anymore."

That was true, and inexcusable. "You're right. I've gotten distracted." My eyes fell on Ray. "Innusiq, I want you to meet my good friend, Ray Kowalski."

Ray remembered my mentioning Innusiq before, and seemed pleased to make the acquaintance. I told him that Innusiq had married June.

"Only because you moved away," Innusiq said, winking. "Best favor you ever did me."

I thought his first statement probably untrue, and his second definitely false. I knew from the wink and the grin that he was merely teasing me. He had missed me as much as I missed him.

Then he delivered the shocking news that he had named his newborn son after me. I wondered if that had been his idea or June's. I could scarcely form words to thank him for the unexpected honor. I knew that it was more usual for Inuit children to be named after dead loved ones, so the spirit of the loved one could inhabit the new body, but I also knew that Innusiq did not hold very strongly to the old beliefs. There was another significance in the naming to me, though: after the death of John Franklin, his daughter and other descendants continuously put his name into the names of their children. His daughter named her first son and daughter "John Franklin" and "Eleanor Elizabeth Franklin" Gell. That Eleanor, granddaughter to Franklin, named her daughter "Eleanor Franklin" Wiseman, and put Franklin's name in her other four children's names as well. It seemed that when it came to explorers, passing on the name was a heritage of great honor.

When we retrieved Dief from quarantine, he immediately sensed the mutual regard between Innusiq and me and stayed close to my old friend, sniffing him and looking to him for direction as he would to an alpha wolf.

"Does Dief remember Innusiq from way back?" Ray asked, noting the behavior.

I shook my head. "They've never met before."

I should have known we couldn't get off the mainland before Innusiq told at least one embarrassing story about me. It was entirely true that once I heard June throat singing with her cousin, I became fascinated by the rhythmic sounds of this unusual custom. I did ask June to teach me many times before she relented, but nowhere along the way did anyone deign to tell me it was traditionally a women's game. Not until I had begun to get the hang of it, at any rate, and by then I had started to enjoy the pastime and felt utterly betrayed by the revelation. Innusiq's teasing had been merciless.

I was glad that Ray seemed to like Innusiq, and we both took leave of him with regret. But as I looked around the cabin of our plane headed to Gjoa Haven, at the crates of dogs, Innusiq's sled and my partner, I began to feel the excitement of the call of adventure once again.

Ray seemed set against passing our nights on King William Island the way we had the last time, and I knew it had taken a toll on him, so I determined to do my best to find more comfortable arrangements. As luck would have it, a shopkeeper named Hendricks was more than happy to accommodate us. Finding an indoor place for even the dogs to sleep was more than I had hoped for. The stock room of the general store was far from glamorous, but neither Ray nor I had any complaints. It would stay above freezing at night, and it was out of the wind.

Once we settled in and had dinner, we were reunited with Cpl. Martin at the local RCMP station. He was kind enough to offer his help in getting the Hamlet Council to meet with us in exchange for a little volunteer work. Naturally, we agreed.

The next morning, we arranged the Council meeting and then started for the Inuit village to reacquaint ourselves with the Netsilik. By and large, they welcomed us in a most friendly manner. The children were overjoyed at the return of Diefenbaker, who had insinuated himself into their hearts on our previous visit. They were also glad to see both Ray and me, and took to following us around, listening in on conversations.

Though they were mostly friendly and harmless, I did keep an eye on them for attempts at pick-pocketing. It wouldn't have been the first time a smiling youngster had portrayed himself as a bosom friend on the surface while attempting a little thievery on the sly. However, to the best of my knowledge, Ray and I retained all our belongings.

The adults were more interested in selling trinkets to us than they were in discussing history, but I had expected that. I wasn't disheartened in spite of not gaining any clues about the focus of our quest.

Our entourage dissipated as we approached the grave for the second time. I glanced over the plaque by the grave and read the part in Inuktitut: Name erased, memory immortal. I had thought it an over-simplification of the English translation on our first visit, but now I wondered if it meant something different.

"Think he's in there?" Ray asked.

I knelt by the head of the grave, trying to imagine what might have gone through the mind of an Inuit burying a white man with intent to cover the corpse's identity. "I don't know," I said. "I hope so... but we can't know yet."

It was then that Tulugaak joined us. He seemed to know the reason for our return already, and hinted that he might be able to help us, whether or not the Hamlet Council would. I was intrigued, but Ray was mistrustful. It seemed only logical to me to pursue any and all leads, time permitting. But I was neglecting the lesson I had learned before on more than one occasion, namely: However sure I am of my logic, it is still valuable to heed Ray's instinct—for our friendship's sake, if nothing else.

We returned to the general store for lunch, but left the dogs attached to the sled, knowing we would be going to the Community Hall straight after. We had to navigate along the side of the road, since some of the new snow had melted away to bare earth in the middle.

The council members treated us with respect, if also with some incredulity. I outlined for them the notions that had prompted our return to Gjoa Haven, but I saw little enthusiasm in their faces. One member asked for Ray's opinion, and he rose to succinctly defer to my judgment and eloquence. I found myself impressed by his candor and application of plain-folks appeal by mentioning a Biblical figure.

For all Ray's insistence that he is not religious, this was not the first time I had heard him make a Biblical reference. Most notably, he had recited the entirety of the Lord's Prayer while delirious with hypothermia on the side of a mountain. But I digress.

Ray's deference to me put the matter back in my hands, and I put it to them in such a way that denying us permission to exhume the grave was clearly the same as embracing a lie. I paused, making eye contact with as many of the councilmen as I could. Then I said, "Thank you for hearing us today."

I took my seat beside Ray, who gave my leg an approving pat. Our request was put to a vote, and the result was in our favor. All that remained was to gain Tulugaak's approval and conduct a professional exhumation.

* * *

Tulugaak's approval seemed unlikely to come cheaply, whether it came to money, as Ray suspected, or time and effort, which I thought more likely. He mysteriously hinted at something to be found "two hours north by northwest" from the Netsilik village, and whether it made logical sense or not, the pursuit of it did to me. Tulugaak wanted us to go, and it seemed he would not cooperate further until we did. That was reason enough.

I was tempted to disregard Tulugaak's warning to leave the dogs behind, but if Ray was right about his having spies watch our every move, it would be best to follow his instructions to the letter. If we didn't, he might find us unworthy of his help. His advisory of imminent, fast-falling snow proved to be correct, and that bolstered my confidence in him on a subconscious level.

In the face of the rough weather, it seemed unwise to go far afield, and I decided it was a good opportunity to repay our debt to Cpl. Martin by manning the RCMP station for the night. After giving us keys and instructions, Martin left us to our volunteer duties. Ray made no delay in making a display of intimidation to the prisoners, who were duly taken aback by his foreign tactics. When I admonished him that a gentler, respect-inspiring approach might brook more building of rapport with them, he responded, "That's what you're here for." It seemed he could not abandon his default "good cop, bad cop" strategy, even when not serving in official capacity.

When Ray began showing signs of weariness, I encouraged him to attempt sleep in the empty cell. After about two hours, I woke him and we traded places. A little later, he woke me to say that he was going to investigate a report from a concerned citizen, and I went out to sit at the desk until he returned.

"False alarm," he told me. "You wanna sleep some more? I'm wide awake right now."

I agreed and turned in again. The next time he woke me, it was due to a reported disturbance in a residential area. I agreed to take this call.

I wasn't fond of snowmobiles. I could handle its operation about as well as I could that of a car. Anyone who has followed my career will know that that means "not exceptionally well." I thought about bringing the dogsled back with me, but I didn't want to wake the Hendricks family. The sun had set and by the time I reached the location of the disturbance, it was full-dark.

What I found was a figurative flurry of activity in the literal flurry of snow. Several teenagers, most of them male, were kicking up the fresh snow, gathering armfuls of it, and attempting to put it down each other's coats. I encouraged them to return to their homes, or at least to decrease their volume.

Ray went back to sleep after I returned to the station, and then came the call that completely changed the tone of the evening.

"The general store is on fire, constable. We just got a call from a woman living across the street."

"Have you sent a pumper truck?" I asked, beginning to lace my boots with the phone braced between my ear and shoulder.

"It's leaving now, but the RCMP station is closer. You might be of some assistance."

"Understood. I'll meet you there." As soon as I hung up, I dialed Cpl. Martin's number and quickly filled him in.

"I'll have Jones go to the station," Martin told me. "You and Kowalski head to the store. I won't be long behind you."

"Yes, sir." I hung up and rushed to wake Ray.

"Oh, god... the dogs," Ray said, fumbling for his boots.

I was also concerned for Dief and the others, but there was no point in talking about it. "Come on," I said.

We didn't have to discuss who would operate the snowmobile. I trusted Ray's ability with this vehicle far more than my own. The going was difficult, but Ray knew how to get the most out of the snowmobile, and we made good progress.

As we approached a turn in the road, Ray called back to me, "Stay with me!"

I made sure my grip around his waist was secure. When he moved, I moved with him. I could have taken this turn on the dogsled with an anchor or a good knife, but on the snowmobile, I had to trust Ray entirely. His instinct was perfect; we completed the turn without incident. I heard him shout, "Whoo!" like a cowboy in an old western film. I knew it was an expression of triumph, and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, I smiled.

Then I could smell the smoke. It smelled of wood and synthetic materials, but not flesh or hair. I hoped that meant we were in time.

"Maintain a safe distance," I called to the few citizens who had gathered on the cold street. "The fire department is on its way."

Ray and I gained the front steps and I tugged off a glove to feel the wood of the door. It felt cool, so I replaced my glove and tried the handle. The door was locked. I nodded to Ray and in a single breath, we kicked the door in.

The fire was concentrated toward the back of the store, but it lunged toward us in the glut of fresh air. As it died back again, we spotted Hendricks about to open the window over the stairs. Ray whirled around to slam the door behind us, just before Hendricks got the window open. He seemed capable of assisting his family out that way, so when Ray prompted me to get the dogs out, I didn't hesitate.

I took a few panting breaths to clear my lungs of as much carbon dioxide as possible before holding my breath and moving through the store toward the back. The area around the store room door was well-engulfed in flame. I was sure it had likely begun to creep up the inside of the door as well, but I could hear the dogs barking. They were still alive.

The heat was daunting, and the barrier of fire between me and the door was wide. If I didn't make it through on the first attempt, I would likely be badly burnt, and might fail to save the dogs. There was no other way out of the store room, barring use of an axe from the outside of the building.

Knowing Dief couldn't hear me, I called, "Nanouk!"

The canine voices paused their chorus.

"Nanouk," I repeated loudly. "Back! Back!"

My breath was almost spent, and I rushed forward, leaped across the inferno and crashed through the store room door. As I had hoped, the dogs had gathered at the back of the room, and none were hurt in my entrance. I paused to swat a couple of sparks that had latched onto my clothing and ducked down to the floor to find fresher air. The smoke was strong, even close to the floor, but I gleaned enough oxygen to operate on.

I took Dief's face in my hands. "Trust me," I mouthed to him. And then, I trusted him. I got up, ran back through the store room and jumped across the widening stream of fire once again, not looking back until I was at the far side of the store.

Having no way of knowing how wide the obstacle was, Dief put all his strength into his leap and landed well beyond the edge of the charred flooring. He continued toward me and, when I stretched out my arm, redirected his path to leap over the checkout counter. Nanouk was close behind him, followed by Togo, Aurora, Sami and Nuki. I vaulted the counter after them, shouted to Ray and brought up the rear as we fled the raging blaze behind us.

Fire fighters were on the scene, and emergency medics pulled us to separate locations to check our status. Once I saw that the Hendricks family was all accounted for, I let myself relax, trembling slightly as my adrenaline ran its course. I could smell singed hair in the air now, but I could see that none of the dogs were aflame.

I looked across to the steps of a nearby house where Ray was being treated, and I was struck by how fortunate we had been that night. Only with Ray Vecchio had I experienced anything near this level of understanding and loyalty before. We had made no plan, but executed our parts just as was needed.

It wasn't until then that I wondered whether RayK had a fear of fire. The only time I remembered him holding back from rushing to someone's aid was when the Vecchio house was on fire. I had chalked it up to his short acquaintance with the family, but now I realized that Ray was usually ready to risk his life, even for strangers. Perhaps it had been the fire that deterred him, and not selfishness as he professed.

As soon as the medics were satisfied that I could move around without doing myself harm, I went to Ray and found Dief protectively stationed at his side. The other dogs were grouped nearby, watching us and the frenzied activity with interest. Dief moved back for me and I sat beside Ray.

"All right, partner?" I asked.

He pulled the oxygen mask away from his face. "Yeah," he said. His voice sounded dry and strained, but steady. "How about you?"

I nodded. "Excess lung capacity, remember?"

He smiled a little. "Yeah. Is that something you're born with?"

"Some are born with a propensity for it, but it can also be developed."

"You should teach me."

"Mm. You remembered about the air currents." _You were listening._

"Mhm. All the dogs okay?"

"Yes." I put an arm around my friend. "Thank you."

He smiled again, but found nothing to say in answer. After a minute he said, "We might have to find somewhere else to camp."

"We might," I agreed grimly. "But it looks like the water lines haven't frozen up; they may be able to save the structure. If so, it can be repaired."

"I hope so. Hope they're insured."

Cpl. Martin found us then. "I'm glad you two are all right," he said. "I heard you went inside after the Hendrickses and your dogs."

"Mister Hendricks managed to get his family out, himself," I said, "but we weren't willing to leave the building without attempting to save the dogs."

He looked around at the creatures in question. "Did you get them all?"

"And none seriously hurt, as far as I've seen."

"Good. Any idea how it started? Hendricks said the barking woke him and the fire was already too widespread to try to get out the front door, so they went out a window. He couldn't tell for sure where it originated."

"I'm afraid it started where the arsonist intended it to: at the door of the store room, where we've been staying."

"I knew it," Ray said. "Someone's out to kill us."

 _Or at least the dogs,_ I thought, but didn't think it prudent to say so at the moment. Ray would surely assume Tulugaak was responsible if the dogs were the target. As it turned out, that was his assumption, anyway.

"You're sure it was arson?" Martin asked, clearly not wanting to believe it.

I nodded. "The fire hadn't reached any sockets or appliances yet, and I'm sure there was no open flame left unattended."

Martin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We don't have the manpower to maintain order in town and launch a major investigation at the same time."

"Can you appeal to Iqaluit?" I asked.

"I will... there's no telling if they'll send anyone. It's a matter of taxpayer's money, I'm afraid."

"I try to tell him that," Ray put in. "It's always money."

"Shh," I hissed at him. I looked back up at Martin. "For now, you can let us investigate the fire."

"But that's not appropriate, considering you were the intended victims."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Corporal. Besides, I think I speak for both of us when I say that we aren't willing to watch from the sidelines." I looked at Ray to be sure, and he made no sign of protest. "All I would ask is that you don't publish our involvement. My superior has a strong objection to my performing any official duties during time designated as vacation."

"Desperate times, indeed," Martin agreed, nodding wearily. "All right, constable. I'll keep your investigation quiet. Keep me informed on whatever you find. And I know it's unorthodox, but you probably won't find anyone in Gjoa Haven willing to house you after this, so I want to put you up at the station. It's not much, but it's a roof and heat."

"Thank you kindly."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Please lend us your thoughts on the story thus far. ~B. Fraser  
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	45. The Wild Goose Chase

_Flash-forward before we continue...  
_

* * *

Chapter Forty-five: The Wild Goose Chase

 _March 11, 2018:_

On the way to work, we saw a license plate beginning with LBD. Jackass that I am, I had to say, "Libido." Fraser came back with "Lobotomized."

"Ugh!" I said. "It's not bad enough you have to one-up me... you have to be gross, too?" Besides, when Eren and Levi started this game, players were originally supposed to each use a different license plate, not try to outdo each other on the same one. But I guess Fraser can't help himself. These fancy words just jump into his head.

"Like libido isn't gross," Eren muttered.

After work, for some reason I got thinking about the big fight Fraser and I had that culminated in my slugging him. He's told me several times that I don't need to feel guilty about it anymore, but I don't think it's ever going to completely go away. This evening he told me that the incident hadn't destroyed his trust in me.

"Sure, but now you know I don't deserve it," I muttered.

"If I were certain you deserved it, it wouldn't be trust," he said.

I did that jaw-drop thing that you never think you'll do in real life until someone blows your mind. I mean sure... there's faith, believing without seeing; there's trust, confidence that someone won't let you down; and then there's fact, knowing that something is a certain way, and that it always will be. The fact is, Fraser is my best friend. I trust that he will always want to be my friend, and I have faith that we'll stay in touch and see each other often for the rest of our lives. I wish they were all facts, but sometimes friends have to go on faith and trust. And knowing he trusts me, even though I screwed up, makes my trust more confident. Trust builds trust, even though it will never reach 100% without becoming fact.

So, for once I got what he was saying, all in a second. It may sound stupid, but I actually had to sit down. There are times I wonder how I've lived this long without Fraser there to explain crap to me. Anyway, I guess he saw he'd knocked me flat, and he came over to put an arm around me—

Side note: we've gotten chummy here, because that's standard; it's the status quo that keeps Mairead's emotions on track. I wouldn't let him hug me back in our world unless there were a really good reason, like we hadn't seen each other for a long time, because the status quo there is completely different. It's taken a little getting used to, but a couple days of seeing rough, tough Captain Levi being gentle toward his subordinate soldier Eren (and even echoing Eren's declaration that he loved him as they were going to sleep) had us dropping a lot of our formalities and stigmas. We've discovered that the Levi-Eren dynamic is kind of similar to my friendship with Fraser, and since Mairead is used to the more intimate friendship they've developed in her world, we couldn't help slipping into it, too. To put it simply, if you thought we had a bromance before, this is like we moved to Bromance Central. No one judges here, no one looks at a guy giving another guy a hug and starts making accusations. We're all kind of subconsciously aware that we're being so mushy because Mairead has an affection deficit in her life, but we're cool with it because we're alters. No one's falling in love with each other; we're just acting like we would if we didn't have a lot of protocol and prejudice in the way. It's kind of nice. In fact, I kinda wish it could be like this back home. My dad wouldn't be so uptight... anyway, I'm getting way too sidetracked.

—so, he put his arm around me and told me it was all right. For the umpteenth time, because it does keep coming up. I think I've mentioned I'm insecure. It's just that whenever I remember hitting him, I think, _Of all the people in the world, why him? Why did I do something so cruddy to someone so damn nice?_ I keep trying to remember that he doesn't hold it against me, but _I_ hold it against me... so, the guilt is taking its time to fade.

I do maintain, though... he provoked me.

* * *

 _The 90's:_

I was glad to see Fraser moving around on his own.

"All right, partner?" he said, sitting beside me. He sounded better off than me, even though he'd been right in the fire itself.

I pulled my oxygen mask out of the way. "Yeah. How about you?"

He nodded. "Excess lung capacity, remember?"

I smiled a little. As if I'd ever forget the buddy-breathing incident. "Yeah. Is that something you're born with?"

"Some are born with a propensity for it, but it can also be developed."

"You should teach me." _And then we can hope you never have to put your mouth on mine again..._

"Mm. You remembered about the air currents."

I was proud of myself for that, but it probably didn't seem like a big deal to him. "Mhm. All the dogs okay?"

"Yes." He put his arm around me. "Thank you."

He was usually so stoic, I was a little surprised, but every near-death experience deserves a hug or something, right? After all the ones we've been through (a lot of them his fault), he owes me about ten hugs. There was a reflexive "You're welcome" at the back of my throat, but honestly, I felt the thanks was unnecessary. I was just doing what he'd have done for me. We were partners. But if I said something like that, he'd insist on thanking me anyway. I knew him too well. Instead, I said, "We might have to find somewhere else to camp."

Fraser said he thought the fire fighters might be able to save the building, and I hoped he was right. Even so, it would take Hendricks a while to get his store back to normal.

I was thinking about how this fire just so happened to start in the one place Fraser and I were staying when Cpl. Martin came along and started talking to Fraser about the fire's cause. Fraser confirmed my suspicions: arson. It seemed far more likely that we were the intended victims, rather than Hendricks and his family.

Gjoa Haven obviously didn't have the resources to handle this case on top of everything that went on there on a daily basis, and when Fraser volunteered us again, I didn't have an argument. At least Martin didn't mind us crashing at the lockup. I'd slept in the 27th's holding cells before, so it wasn't like I wasn't used to it. It's funny how when you _have_ to be in a cell, you'd do anything to get out, but when you need sleep bad, a cell turns into something you covet... something you sneak into and hope no one notices.

* * *

When it was daylight again a couple hours later, we were allowed to go into the store with Hendricks to assess the damage. Our sleeping bags, the sacks and wool blanket we'd slept on were reduced to a soggy pile of muck and two zippers. Our bags were blackened and had lots of new holes, and the clothes inside all stank like noxious smoke. I was glad I'd had my boot gun and ammo on me at the RCMP station, or a dog could have lost an eye. Martin offered to let us wash our clothes at his place, and we accepted. One of my favorite flannel shirts didn't survive the wash—its integrity had been compromised, as they say of buildings rendered unsafe by fire.

So, we had slightly more limited clothing, and much more limited bedding. We were down to one wool blanket and a caribou hide, both of which had been left on the sled outside, or they probably wouldn't have survived either. We had to buy new bedrolls from Mr. Hendricks's competition, since the ones in his store weren't exactly in brand-new condition. Fortunately, he was insured for fire damage, and once the insurance company was satisfied that he hadn't set the fire himself, he should get compensated. Of course, if we proved someone else set the fire on purpose, that would open a whole new can of worms, but one thing at a time.

Hendricks's neighbors got together to help him clean the shop out, and of course Fraser and I joined in. Anything unsalvageable was put in a heap—ironically, to be burned. Anything damaged but still useful was piled on the sales floor to be discount priced. Damaged flooring was torn up. Half the wall between the stock room and the back of the store was taken out. Ceilings were scraped. Steps were pulled out. By lunchtime, I was exhausted.

Dief and some of the other dogs helped out a little by carrying debris to the burn pile, but Fraser told me that two of them, Aurora and the little guy called Nuki, had burnt some of their paws and were limping a little. Nuki and Sami were both doing some coughing, too, and we figured they'd breathed a lot of smoke.

"Looks like we for-sure won't be taking the dogs two hours north by northwest," I commented dryly.

"We won't be taking the sled anywhere today," Fraser agreed. He looked at the sky, which had cleared off quite a bit. "I do want to visit the Netsilik as soon as possible, though."

"You think they did this?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. I saw you sniffing and tasting stuff. You've at least got an idea."

He sighed. "It's not conclusive... but I do believe the accelerant was seal oil."

"That's what the Inuit use to heat the igloos."

"Correct."

"How is that not conclusive? You think someone's trying to frame them? Who? Someone on the Hamlet Council that wants a recount? Come on, Fraser."

I knew he knew I was right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"What's the motive?" he asked.

"Easy. Tulugaak gets us to put off digging up the grave, sets the fire in the night to get rid of us, problem solved. And he half succeeded—he at least made it so the wild goose chase he planned out for us definitely won't involve the dogsled, unless we wait for everyone to fully recover. And we don't have that kind of time, do we?"

"No." Fraser took a bite of his sandwich. A kind neighbor had provided them to the volunteer workers. After swallowing, he said, "Regardless of our suspicions, I still think we should find out what's up there."

"But you said yourself there was no reason for Franklin to be buried further north."

"Perhaps not, but there isn't much reason for him not to be, either. There are two things that I think make it worthwhile. First, if Tulugaak really wants us to go, he's unlikely to sanction the exhumation before we do. Second, if Franklin were buried so far from any recognizable landmarks, that would explain why so many search parties have failed to find him."

"Maybe they just failed to find him because he was in a shallow grave that got dug up by predators," I argued, grimacing at my own words.

"Are you willing to go home empty-handed, not having followed Tulugaak's instructions or investigated the grave?"

My turn to sigh. "No," I admitted.

"Then we're in agreement?"

I nodded reluctantly. "Sign me up for the wild goose chase."

"Constable Fraser," someone said, coming up to us. I looked up and saw a Mountie in a uniform that looked like the one Fraser usually wore.

"Constable Jones?" Fraser asked.

"Yes. I heard some of your dogs were hurt in the fire," the other Mountie said.

"That's true, but they're going to be all right."

"I'm glad to hear it. I have a couple of dogs, myself. There's a young man who likes to borrow them from time to time to use with his own pair. He wants to enter the dogsled races planned for next winter."

Fraser nodded.

"Anyway, they're in good running shape, so if you might like to borrow them, I can leave them at the station for you."

"That's very kind of you, Constable. It would be good to have them in reserve."

"I'll do that, then. It's the least I can do. Do you have a lead on the arsonist yet?"

"We've got some ideas," I told him.

"We'll let Corporal Martin know if anything comes of them," Fraser added.

"All right," said Jones. "Well, I'm off to get the dogs, then."

I felt better knowing the dogsled was an option again. "So, what do we do now?" I asked.

Fraser looked around at the other volunteers. "I think they have the situation here well in hand," he said. "If we start for the Netsilik camp now, we can probably get our 'wild goose chase,' as you call it, done in time for dinner—even without taking the sled."

"You're the boss," I said.

* * *

We made sure Dief and the other dogs were going to play nice with Constable Jones's dogs and then left them at the RCMP station and headed for Igloosville. I was not looking forward to seeing Tulugaak, but I kept telling myself to just follow Fraser's lead. I wouldn't get anywhere by arguing, but I might by saying "I told you so" later.

"I am pleased you were not harmed in the fire at Mister Hendricks' store," the shaman said when he met us outside his igloo. "And I heard your dogs survived as well."

"Yeah, Amaguq musta protected them," I muttered.

"We would have come sooner," Fraser said, "but we were helping to clean up the damage. It looks like the store can be repaired."

"Good news," said Tulugaak. Then he turned to a woman standing behind him. She had been waiting patiently with two sets of snowshoes, and she brought them forward. "These are for your journey."

"Thank you," Fraser said, taking both sets of shoes and handing one to me. "It's kind of you to lend them to us."

"Tulugaak is pleased to help."

I caught the Inuit woman rolling her eyes after he mentioned himself in the third person. I instantly liked her.

"I wonder if you could help by answering a question," Fraser said. "The fire was started with seal oil. The townspeople don't normally use seal oil, and I've confirmed that Mister Hendricks didn't carry it in his store. The fire was set deliberately by someone who brought the oil with him."

The woman's eyes flicked over to Tulugaak, but she couldn't have seen his face from where she stood. The shaman's expression didn't change, that I could tell.

"What is your question?" he asked.

"Could the man or woman who set the fire have come from this camp?" Fraser asked.

Tulugaak lifted his chin importantly. "Though few white men use it, the Netsilik have not cornered the market on seal oil."

I grinned. "Cornered the market" was a super un-Inuit thing to say.

Tulugaak pointed toward the unnamed grave. "You start there. Two hours north by northwest."

Fraser nodded to him. "Thank you kindly."

We started walking toward the grave, but then Fraser paused and looked back. "I'll remember what you said, Tulugaak," he said. "If we don't find what we seek, you'll hear our request when we get back."

Tulugaak stared at him a moment and then gave a very deliberate nod. He turned and ducked into his igloo and the woman walked away.

We trudged over the path to the grave. The way was already worn down with footprints in the new snow. We had seen a couple of tourist-types in the camp, and they'd probably visited the grave, possibly with a tour guide. I saw some footprints that went past it and doubled back, so someone had been making the trip for the first time and observed the passing-by custom.

"Well, Franklin, ol' pal," I said to the white headstone which someone had brushed the snow off of, "if you're in there, we'll see you in a few hours. If not... you can't hear me anyway."

"Ray," Fraser said in a complaining tone as he put on his snowshoes, "he's dead. It's highly unlikely he could hear you, anyway."

I smirked. "Highly unlikely? What, is the jury still out on whether or not ancient explorers can hear the voices of the people searching for them?" I knelt to put on my snowshoes.

"Well, I'm not sure of your opinion on the existence of ghosts, for example."

"Eh, I don't really believe in 'em. But that doesn't mean they don't creep the hell outta me."

"I see."

"Why, you believe in 'em?"

He hesitated and then nodded. "Yes."

"Really? But you're supposed to be the logical one." He had checked his watch and started walking. "Hey, wait up." I struggled to get into the rhythm of walking with two oversized wooden spoons attached to my feet. I'd never been good at this. At least I wasn't falling on my face every third step anymore. "Fraser," I said, when I got close enough, "how come you believe in ghosts?"

After a minute, he said, "I'd really rather not answer that."

"What, did you see one once?" I waited a long time, but as I've mentioned, I'm not big on patience. "Fraser?"

"If I explain, you'll think I'm lying, incompetent, or insane, so I'd really rather not," he said firmly.

Of course, that just sent my curiosity through the roof. "I know you wouldn't lie," I said. "And you may act kinda crazy sometimes, but I don't mind that. And... what was the other one?"

"Incompetent. You'll think I let my imagination run away with me, rather than remaining grounded in fact."

"Happens to the best of us."

"I don't want you to think that of me. So, if you're not prepared to believe in at least a possibility of ghosts being real, I'd rather not tell you my reason for believing in them."

I felt really disoriented. It was some serious role-reversal going on there. I was normally the guy who didn't need a reason for anything; he was normally the guy who needed to explain _everything._ My gut said ghosts weren't real. But that was a really logical conclusion to reach on pure instinct. For some reason, his logical mind was telling him they _were_ real. So, maybe he was right: maybe I would think he was unhinged or naive or... well, he wouldn't lie. He might tell an occasional ghost story, but they were the kind of thing you'd never think was true, anyway.

We didn't talk much for the next hour or so. It was weird walking way out in the frozen armpit of nowhere. We could see what looked like a rippling mud puddle way off to the south, and I knew that was a huge herd of caribou. A little closer was the town, and closer than that but kinda harder to make out was the clump of igloos. There weren't any trees. We were above the timberline by quite a bit. There was just snow. Lumpy, drifted snow.

If I didn't watch where I was going, I sometimes tripped over a snow-lump. Sometimes even when I _was_ paying attention, everything being the same color would confuse me. It messed with my depth perception.

"I think we're getting slightly off course," Fraser said after a while. He checked his compass and looked around.

"How could we be?" I asked. "Haven't we been following the floating arrow?"

"Well, yes, but... this region is notorious for giving bad compass readings, as you may recall."

"Oh, yeah... 'cause we're near the pole."

"Right. That's how Gjoa Haven came to be settled in the first place: Roald Amundsen was searching for the magnetic pole when he landed in the natural harbor there."

"Uh-huh. I remember that history lesson from last time, I think."

"Still, if I check the position of the town behind us now and then, we should be all right."

"We don't even know what we're looking for."

"No. But I'm sure if it were hard to find, Tulugaak would have given us a clue of what to look for."

"I'm not," I muttered under my breath, but I followed him on.

I'm sure you've assumed it, but just so you remember, it was _cold._ It was the middle of the day, so it was above zero, but it wasn't above freezing. And I felt like I could feel the temperature dropping as we went further north. I know that's silly, but it's just so depressing to stare at nothing but lumpy white terrain and the back end of your partner's snowshoes going up and down... That's not what you thought I was going to say, was it? Freakin' fan girls.

Anyway, I felt kind of sorry for myself because I never wanted to go out there in the first place. I thought it was all a really, really bad idea. If anything happened, we were miles from anywhere and had no transportation. The only positive thing I could think of was that there was absolutely no cover for anyone to hide behind. So, I could be reasonably sure that we weren't walking into an ambush.

"Has it been two hours yet?" I asked, even though I knew Fraser was keeping an eye on the time, and would probably tell me when the time was up.

"No. About one and a half."

I groaned. "Can we rest?"

"I'll have to keep track of how long... so it doesn't throw our time off."

"It's not going to be exact," I snapped. "Everyone walks at a different pace."

"Yes, so I've observed."

I wasn't sure if he was being defensive, or if he was making a dig at how much slower I was on my snowshoes. Either way, I decided to just deal with it. "Never mind. Let's keep going."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a canteen. "Here."

I took it gratefully and gulped down some water. "Thanks." I gave it back and we went on.

Finally, the two hours were up. We stopped and turned in slow circles.

"See anything?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Well, I probably slowed us down... let's go a little further." I didn't want us to have any doubt that there wasn't anything to find.

"All right," Fraser agreed.

As we walked on, I got out my glasses and put them on under my ski mask so I could be sure not to miss anything in the distance. After we walked a couple more minutes, I did see something. I squinted at it. "Hey, Fraser... I think there's something around ten o'clock."

It took him just a second to realize I wasn't talking about the time. He turned slightly to the left and looked hard at the area. "I believe you're right. Let's get closer."

We changed course and made for the thing sticking out of the snow. The closer we got, the less I thought I could guess what it was. At first glance, it looked like a stick poking out of the snow, and when we got really close, my assessment didn't get much more accurate. There was a big chunk of ice partially visible above the fresh snow, and snugly frozen in the top of it was what looked like the handle of a knife. But the knife looked dull and rusty. And icy. Or maybe...

"Fraser... is that... is that a knife made of frozen blood?"

"No." He knelt a couple yards from it and stared, brow furrowed. "It's a wolf trap."

Something from way back in junior high or thereabouts jumped up and hit me in the __déjà_ vu. _"Wait, I know this. I know this! The Eskimo takes a really sharp knife, dips it in blood, freezes it, repeats until he has a nice bloodsicle. Then he sticks it in the ground, point up. The wolf comes along to lick the blood, cuts its tongue, doesn't feel it because it has brain freeze from eating its ice cream too fast, keeps licking, shreds its tongue and bleeds out."

"That is the basic idea, yes."

"I thought it was just a fable, though."

"It is. Some wolves would smell the human that left the knife there and not trust it, but if a wolf did decide to try to lick the blood off, once he got a good taste, he'd most likely attempt to bite or swallow the knife whole."

"Ugh! It could do that?"

"Certainly. I've heard of domestic dogs swallowing peanut butter-covered knives."

I wrapped an arm around my stomach. "That's so gross. Wouldn't that still kill it, though?"

"It might, but by that time it would be a good way off. The myth says the Inuit finds the wolf dead beside the knife. Besides, Inuit don't kill wolves much. Not unless the wolves have been bothering their village. They prefer to stay on Amaguq's good side."

"Well, whatever. What's this thing doing here?"

"I'd say it's a message."

"Like... an 'I told you not to bring your wolf' message?"

"Perhaps."

"Then this isn't what Tulugaak sent us to find."

Fraser shook his head. "No."

"So... maybe something's buried under it?" I suggested, moving closer.

"RAY!"

I think Fraser knew I was falling before I did. I felt him grabbing at my coat as I started grabbing madly for anything to stop me. For a second he had me, but we were slipping... I was dangling and he was losing traction. Then he let go. I didn't think about it much in that moment, but he actually let go on purpose.

* * *

 _Horrors! Don't worry, I'm still alive. *wink*  
_


	46. Promises

_Absolutely no one seems to have been worried about me after that last chapter. I'm hurt. Sigh. Oh well... it's been a week, so I'll update it anyway.  
_

* * *

Chapter Forty-six: Promises

I don't know about you, but when I fall, a lot of little un-worded thoughts go through my mind. If I put them into words, they would go something like this: _I'm falling. Stop myself. Can't stop. Catch myself. Still falling. Regroup. Catch myself a different way. Still falling. Regroup. Catch myself a different way._ Still _falling?! Oh, sh*t..._

That's kind of how it went this time. I fell a long, _long_ way. I bumped and scraped on the way down. I didn't know when (or if) I'd ever hit the bottom, so I wasn't ready when I did. I tried to absorb the shock in my legs, but had limited success. I heard something tear and felt the wind go out of me with a hollow "Uh!" when my back hit a solid wall behind me. Then I kind of crumpled the rest of the way and I was sitting in a mess of snow and dirt and broken snowshoes.

"Ray?"

I grimaced in pain and tilted my head back. I could hardly believe it when I saw how far above me Fraser was. We'd been on what seemed like fairly flat ground, and here I was looking up at him like Daniel in the lion's den. Like Jack at the bottom of the beanstalk. Like the prince under Rapunzel's window.

"Are you all right?"

I shifted around and tried to get up. "I think I twisted an ankle," I called. It was pretty dark down there, and my eyes were adjusting slowly. "Something tore my coat... but it didn't go all the way through," I reported. "I bumped my sore shoulder... god, that hurts. And, uh... ski mask saved my glasses. One lens cracked. Still usable."

"Any broken bones?"

"Don't think so... somehow."

"That's good." He looked around. "I know I owe you an apology, but it's going to have to wait."

It was about then that I realized he'd let go of me on purpose. "What, for dropping me?" I'd told him before to warn me when he was going to drop me, but I guessed he hadn't had time.

"No. For trusting Tulugaak."

"So, you're ready to admit he wants us dead?"

"Very much so. He didn't want us to bring the dogs because they might sense the danger, and even if they didn't, they would likely be the first to fall in, or if not, they might go to bring help back to us."

"Yeah, that all makes sense, but how are we going to get me out of here?"

He looked around again. "Even if I had something long enough to lower down to you, I have nothing with which to anchor myself." He got out the canteen. "Look out, I'm going to drop this."

I held out my hands and managed to catch the canteen. "Thanks, what do I do with this?"

"Make it last until I get back."

I panicked. "No... no, Fraser, you can't leave me out here!"

"I've little choice, Ray. We're not equipped to spend the night out here, and it will take that long for Corporal Martin to realize we're missing. We could die of hypothermia. With no way to signal for help..."

"My phone! I have my phone..."

 _"Why_ did you bring your phone? Do you really expect to get reception?"

"Well, not from down here," I admitted, getting the phone out. "It's just one of those things you never leave home without... Here, catch." I tried to throw it overhand, but it hit the side of the pit and fell back into my hands.

"Is it damaged?"

I looked it over. "Don't think so. Lemme try again."

"Try a mortar shot," he suggested. "Both hands, like a trampoline."

I cupped the phone in both hands, weighed it up and down for a second and then flung it straight up as hard as I could. Fraser didn't manage to catch it, but he knocked it to the side so it landed up there in the snow instead of falling down again. He went out of my sight for a few seconds and then came back.

"No reception up here either, I'm afraid. Perhaps I'll be able to get a signal on my way back."

"But it took two _hours_ to get up here..."

"I'll make better time on my own, and better still when I have the dogs."

"Fraser..." I knew he was talking sense. There was nothing we could do. He had to go back. And I was going to be stuck in a hole with my panic and my insecurity and my neediness and no one to tell me it would be OK. "I..." _I'm scared._

"Do you have your watch?"

"Yeah." I checked it. "Looks like it's still working."

"Good. If I'm not back in a couple of hours... start singing."

"So you can find me?"

He shook his head. "I'm confident that even if a strong wind should come up and erase our tracks, Diefenbaker would be able to find you."

 _Start singing, because I'll be facing death. Again. Alone, this time._ "Fraser..." _I don't want to die alone._ "You make sure you come back."

"Of course, I will. I have to tell you why I believe in ghosts."

I laughed. "That's rich... considering I'll probably _be_ one by the time you get back."

"Ray, you're not going to die."

"You keep saying that..."

"Have I ever been wrong about it?"

"Well, no..."

"Then you should trust me."

"I do. I really do. But when you're a couple miles away, it's gonna get harder."

He crouched at the edge of the pit. "In one of his journals, my father defined a friend as someone who never stops until he finds you and brings you home. We're friends, aren't we?"

 _Duh. Yes, Captain Obvious._ "Yeah," I said, hating how much I sounded like a little kid admitting that I had checked under the bed and found no monsters so far.

"I won't stop until I find you and bring you home."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I wondered if this would be the time I'd been waiting for—the time when Fraser made a promise too big, one he couldn't keep in spite of all his good intentions. I just had to hope it wasn't and try to trust him. "Okay."

He took his coat off.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't intend to stop moving, so I should stay warm enough. You're going to need that more than I will. And incidentally..."

I almost laughed out loud. Here we were in almost as tight a spot as we'd ever been in, and he still had to flex his formal vocabulary muscles.

"You do have your boot gun, don't you?"

That brought me up short in the act of pulling his coat around my shoulders. I looked up at him in surprise, seeing a knowing look on his face. "How long have you known?"

"I suspected it when you first said you wanted to check a bag rather than just carry one. I didn't know for sure until just now."

"You didn't check?"

"I thought deniability would stand me in good stead."

I shook my head. "You think I'll need it?"

"You can hardly have deniability when it's in your possession."

"The gun, Fraser. You think I'll need it?"

"I hope not. But I feel better knowing you have it."

"Think people in town would hear it if you fired it out here?"

He took a moment to observe his surroundings. "The breeze isn't in our favor," he said. "And the fresh snow would dampen the sound. I'd say it's unlikely. Even if someone heard, they might assume it was a hunter."

"Maybe you should take it anyway... in case Tulugaak sends someone after the survivor."

"I'll be all right. No one can sneak up on me on this terrain."

 _But anyone could sneak up on me. I won't know they're coming until they're literally right on top of me._

He cleared his throat. "Of course, you realize that once I get you out of there, I'll have to arrest you."

This time I did laugh. "You get me out of here, you can do whatever the hell you want, Dudley Do-Right."

"I'll hold you to that. Now, the sooner I start, the better. I'll see you soon."

"You'd better." I watched him disappear from view. I could hear his footsteps for a little while. Then nothing.

* * *

I kept checking my watch at first, but quickly decided that was a good way to go insane. I tried singing the Northwest Passage song, but couldn't remember much more than the chorus, so I gave that up. It wasn't the same without Fraser, anyway.

It was freaking cold in that hole. King William Island isn't exactly a beach resort in the first place, but twenty or so feet under the surface...

I squinted at the walls of the pit. All that dirt and rock and then snow up above. I realized there was no way in hell that Tulugaak, even with a team of people, could have dug that pit in a couple of days. This wasn't a simple job for a snow shovel. This probably took pickaxes and stuff. The ground is tougher when it's frozen—that's why crypts exist. If the ground's too hard, you stick the body in the crypt until spring thaw. Had this hole been here a whole year? Since the ground was a little warmer last summer?

That put a literal hole in my premeditated murder theory. Maybe this pit was actually part of a real wolf trap. Maybe the wolf was supposed to fall to its death instead of licking its way there. Or maybe the Inuit would drive caribou over the spot until one fell in. It seemed like a good strategy. So, why didn't anyone mention it in the village? It seemed like another good tourist attraction: Join a real Eskimo caribou hunt! See the Eskimo people herding reindeer into a death trap!

Death trap. My feet were starting to go numb with cold. I got them out of what was left of the snowshoes and stomped around for a while. I pulled my arms through the sleeves of Fraser's coat and pulled the hood up over my head. Then I checked my watch. Fraser hadn't even been gone half an hour.

I drank a little water and walked around the tiny space. I guess it was about four feet across at most. Too small to lie down in, but too big to do the escape trick like you see in the movies where the guy puts his feet on one side and his shoulders on the other and walks up the wall. No way. But maybe I could span it with my legs...

I tried bracing a foot on either side and inching my way up, but I couldn't keep enough traction. My twisted ankle could hardly take any weight, there was nothing for my hands to grip, and I thought if I ever made it halfway up, I'd probably lose my balance and end up falling on my head. But my legs were already getting tired just two feet off the bottom. I wasn't used to this kind of workout, and after snowshoeing for miles on low sleep, a twisted ankle just clinched it. I wasn't going anywhere.

I decided to take a rest, huddling against the pit wall. Fraser's coat was long enough that I could sit on the bottom edge of it, which kept my butt from going numb right away. I tried not to think about my regrets... there seemed to be a lot more of them without Fraser there. When you think you're gonna die with your best friend, the list is pretty short. But when you think you're gonna die alone, you can get to feeling pretty sorry for yourself.

And my parents... that about killed me right there. I hadn't been the greatest son in the world. I hadn't been keeping in touch like I should. Now the last thing I'd told my mom was about putting maple syrup in my coffee. I pulled my knees up and rested my head on them. Everything sucked. I found myself saying the Lord's Prayer, which seemed appropriate, thinking about my parents.

They used to make me go to Sunday school, and I'd been to church with the Vecchios. It never did much for me, but It seemed to make my parents happy. Mom loved hearing me recite whatever Bible verse we'd been learning. I thought some of the Bible stories were cool, like David and Goliath.

"...and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..." I looked up at the circle of light I could see above me. It would have been cool to see Fraser coming back then, his hat silhouetted against the sky. "...for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen." I waited a minute or so, but there was still no sound. It hadn't been long enough yet.

"Listen, I know people make promises when they think they're gonna die, and then they don't keep 'em," I said to whoever cared to listen in, "but... well, Fraser kind of inspires a guy to want to be a man of his word. So, I really mean this. If I get outta here, I'll go to church. I mean, not necessarily regularly. But... at least once. At least. And... I'll try not to swear so much." I bit my lip. That probably wasn't good enough. "See, I think Fraser's the best thing you ever sent my way... assuming that was your doing. I guess if you're real, it had to be. So I guess you had a reason. So... I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume we're not done yet. 'Cause I've been learning a lot from him, but I want to learn more. I want to have the kind of rep that he's got. I want people to know they can trust me. I want women to feel safe with me and men to feel like they should stay in line around me. But I know I've got a long way to go, so... you gotta give me a little more time, okay?"

The only thing that answered me was a little breeze blowing over the pit, showering some powder snow down on me. "Thanks," I muttered, putting my head down again.

I tried to sleep, and I think I did doze off for twenty minutes or so. Then I started singing all the ABBA I could remember. Each song was three minutes or so. Ten songs, half an hour. Not bad. But then I made a mistake.

I had told Fraser about singing ABBA in the face of death, but I hadn't told him the circumstances. Or which song. Or how depressed I'd been at the time.

"I don't wanna talk... about the things we've gone through. Though it's hurting me, now it's history..." This song I knew start to finish. I shouldn't have started singing it. It had become the monster song I wanted to sing to Stella ever since we split. It was the only song I'd found that covered the crazy range of feelings going through me. I almost stopped after the first verse, but I was trying to pass the time, after all.

"I was in your arms, thinking I belonged there. I figured it made sense, building me a fence, building me a home... thinking I'd be strong there. But I was a fool playing by the rules..."

If a guy wants to torture himself with self-pity, this is the way to do it. I know it wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy when I first memorized it, and it definitely didn't help things now. Stella was the last thing I needed to think about, let alone how screwed up things had turned out.

"I don't wanna talk if it makes you feel sad, and I understand you've come to shake my hand. I apologize if it makes you feel bad seeing me so tense, no self-confidence... But you see, the winner takes..." I paused mid-build. I thought I'd heard something.

I held my breath. I heard shuffling. The whisper of runners. The murmur of paws on snow.

 _He's back! Oh, thank God!_ I got to my feet and watched anxiously until a bundled-up figure appeared in the circle above me. "About time!" I called. Then I froze. Two more figures joined the first. I couldn't see their faces, but I realized that none of them was Fraser.

"I don't s'pose you wanna help me outta here?" I asked, a sinking feeling telling me that was the last thing they wanted to do.

They looked at each other and talked quietly. I didn't catch any words, but from the heavy concentration of consonants, I knew it was Inuktitut, not English. Then they came a little closer. They were each carrying what looked like a wooden pole. No, not a pole—they were handles.

I knew what they were as soon as I heard the first "shhhook!" Shovels. Then snow was pouring down on me. My promise to swear less went out the window.

"Hey!" I shouted, digging for my gun. "You don't wanna do this! You realize I'm an American cop? If I disappear, they'll hunt you to the ends of the earth!" Who was I kidding—this _was_ the ends of the earth. I wasn't scaring anyone. I managed to tug the gun out of my boot and click the safety off. I aimed for the shovel I could see bobbing at the top of the pit, closing one eye so my cracked lens wouldn't skew my shot. I knew that would mess with my depth perception, and took my time aiming.

I fired. The shovel went flying to the tune of startled voices. Then it got quiet. A little powwow started up. I wished I could remember the few Inuktitut words I'd learned before, but I'd made no effort to remember them over the last few weeks because I hadn't thought I'd be going back to this area.

The snow started coming down again, but I couldn't see the shovels anymore. They were flinging it from further away.

I chambered another round, thinking wildly that there had to be _something_ I could say to them. Then I remembered the wolf god. "A... Ama... Amatut? No. Agamut? No... Amaguq! Amaguq will _so_ not be happy about this," I shouted. "Amaguq will _curse_ you!"

The snow-flinging halted, but only for a moment. Then it resumed with a vengeance.

"Aw, screw it," I muttered. The snow was gathering around my feet. I tried to stomp it down and stand on it, but it was coming too fast for me. I had to hold one hand over my eyes to keep my glasses from getting hit with snow when I took aim again. I emptied my gun. I had no way of knowing if I'd hit anyone. I put the gun in Fraser's coat pocket, since my boots were buried at that point.

Out of ideas and barely keeping my panic down, I resorted to racial slurs as the snow level steadily rose. Yeah, my idea of following Fraser's upstanding example kinda went out the window, too. In my defense, these people were trying to _kill_ me. I figured pissing them off couldn't make matters worse. Maybe one of them would get so mad he'd lose his footing and fall down there with me where I could fight on my own terms. I made up some names for them that really had nothing to do with Inuit at all... I think I called them pug dogs at one point. Pugs have nothing to do with the Arctic Circle... I just don't like them. They're round and their legs are too little for their bodies and they have dark, wrinkled faces. There was some tiny stretch of an association in there somewhere. I don't know. I was desperate. And I figure they didn't understand half of what I was saying, anyway.

The snow was up to my chest, and thrashing around in it didn't help me at all. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be stuck in quicksand. At least I knew there was a bottom to it. But the real problem was the top, which was rising a lot faster now that they'd figured out I was out of bullets.

 _Don't let me die like this... for my mom if not for me... please._

* * *

 _If you're worrying that I'm writing this from beyond the grave, you can relax. I'm still alive. But I wouldn't mind hearing that you were worried. ;p  
_


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